The Rum Parade

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1. The Last Parade With never a sound of trumpet, With never a flag displayed, The last of the old campaigners Lined up for the last parade. Weary they were and battered, Shoeless, and knocked about; From under their ragged forelocks Their hungry eyes looked out. And they watched as the old commander Read out to the cheering men […]...
2. Lord Robert's Triumphal Entry into Pretoria ‘Twas in the year of 1900, and on the 5th of June, Lord Roberts entered Pretoria in the afternoon; His triumphal entry was magnificent to see, The British Army marching behind him fearlessly. With their beautiful banners unfurled to the breeze, But the scene didn’t the Boers please; And they immediately made some show of […]...
3. Distracted Druggist ‘A shilling’s worth of quinine, please,’ The customer demanded. The druggist went down on his knees And from a cupboard handed The waiting man a tiny flask: ‘Here, Sir, is what you ask.’ The buyer paid and went away, The druggist rubbed his glasses, Then sudden shouted in dismay: ‘Of all the silly asses!’ And […]...
4. Danny Deever “What are the bugles blowin’ for?” said Files-on-Parade. “To turn you out, to turn you out”, the Colour-Sergeant said. “What makes you look so white, so white?” said Files-on-Parade. “I’m dreadin’ what I’ve got to watch”, the Colour-Sergeant said. For they’re hangin’ Danny Deever, you can hear the Dead March play, The regiment’s in ‘ollow […]...
5. At The Parade I cannot flap a flag Or beat a drum; Behind the mob I lag With larynx dumb; Alas! I fear I’m not A Patriot. With acrid eyes I see The soul of things; And equal unto me Are cooks and kings; I would not cross the street A duke to meet. Oh curse me for […]...
6. What Shall I Do For the Land that Bred Me What shall I do for the land that bred me, Her homes and fields that folded and fed me?- Be under her banner and live for her honour: Under her banner I’ll live for her honour. CHORUS. Under her banner live for her honour. Not the pleasure, the pay, the plunder, But country and flag, […]...
7. The Haymakers' Song HERE’S to him that grows it, Drink, lads, drink! That lays it in and mows it, Clink, jugs, clink! To him that mows and makes it, That scatters it and shakes it, That turns, and teds, and rakes it, Clink, jugs, clink! Now here ‘s to him that stacks it, Drink, lads, drink! That thrashes […]...
8. My Book Before I drink myself to death, God, let me finish up my Book! At night, I fear, I fight for breath, And wake up whiter than a spook; And crawl off to a bistro near, And drink until my brain is clear. Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength To write and write; and so […]...
9. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
10. TO GROVES Ye silent shades, whose each tree here Some relique of a saint doth wear; Who for some sweet-heart’s sake, did prove The fire and martyrdom of Love: Here is the legend of those saints That died for love, and their complaints; Their wounded hearts, and names we find Encarved upon the leaves and rind. Give […]...
11. A Woman's Honour Love bade me hope, and I obeyed; Phyllis continued still unkind: Then you may e’en despair, he said, In vain I strive to change her mind. Honour’s got in, and keeps her heart, Durst he but venture once abroad, In my own right I’d take your part, And show myself the mightier God. This huffing […]...
12. The Thanksgiving Oh King of grief! (a title strange, yet true, To thee of all kings only due) Oh King of wounds! how shall I grieve for thee, Who in all grief preventest me? Shall I weep blood? why thou has wept such store That all thy body was one door. Shall I be scourged, flouted, boxed, […]...
13. Poor Poet ‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his […]...
14. The New Knighthood Who gives him the Bath? “I,” said the wet, Rank-Jungle-sweat, “I’ll give him the Bath!” Who’ll sing the psalms? “We,” said the Palms. “Ere the hot wind becalms, “We’ll sing the psalms.” Who lays on the sword? “I,” said the Sun, Before he has done, “I’ll lay on the sword.” “Who fastens his belt? “I,” […]...
15. A Ritual To Read To Each Other If you don’t know the kind of person I am And I don’t know the kind of person you are A pattern that others made may prevail in the world And following the wrong god home we may miss our star. For there is many a small betrayal in the mind, A shrug that lets […]...
16. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
17. The Ships that Won't Go Down We hear a great commotion ‘Bout the ship that comes to grief, That founders in mid-ocean, Or is driven on a reef; Because it’s cheap and brittle A score of sinners drown. But we hear but mighty little Of the ships that won’t go down. Here’s honour to the builders – The builders of the […]...
18. Border Ballad March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale, Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order! March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale, All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border. Many a banner spread, Flutters above your head, Many a crest that is famous in story. Mount and make ready then, Sons of the mountain glen, Fight […]...
19. A Tribute to Mr Murphy and the Blue Ribbon Army All hail to Mr Murphy, he is a hero brave, That has crossed the mighty Atlantic wave, For what purpose let me pause and think- I answer, to warn the people not to taste strong drink. And, I’m sure, if they take his advice, they never will rue The day they joined the Blue Ribbon […]...
20. The Platonic Lady I could love thee till I die, Would’st thou love me modestly, And ne’er press, whilst I live, For more than willingly I would give: Which should sufficient be to prove I’d understand the art of love. I hate the thing is called enjoyment: Besides it is a dull employment, It cuts off all that’s […]...
21. Marzo Pazzo Mad March, with the wind in his wings wide-spread, Leaps from heaven, and the deep dawn’s arch Hails re-risen again from the dead Mad March. Soft small flames on rowan and larch Break forth as laughter on lips that said Nought till the pulse in them beat love’s march. But the heartbeat now in the […]...
22. Her Anxiety Earth in beauty dressed Awaits returning spring. All true love must die, Alter at the best Into some lesser thing. Prove that I lie. Such body lovers have, Such exacting breath, That they touch or sigh. Every touch they give, Love is nearer death. Prove that I lie....
23. Wine Bibber I would rather drink than eat, And though I superbly sup, Food, I feel, can never beat Delectation of the cup. Wine it is that crowns the feast; Fish and fowl and fancy meat Are of my delight the least: I would rather drink than eat. Though no Puritan I be, And have doubts of […]...
24. Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I did. Say […]...
25. Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One […]...
26. EPIPHANIAS THE three holy kings with their star’s bright ray, They eat and they drink, but had rather not pay; They like to eat and drink away, They eat and drink, but had rather not pay. The three holy kings have all come here, In number not four, but three they appear; And if a fourth […]...
27. 203. Sylvander to Clarinda WHEN dear Clarinda, 1 matchless fair, First struck Sylvander’s raptur’d view, He gaz’d, he listened to despair, Alas! ’twas all he dared to do. Love, from Clarinda’s heavenly eyes, Transfixed his bosom thro’ and thro’; But still in Friendships’ guarded guise, For more the demon fear’d to do. That heart, already more than lost, The […]...
28. A Voice from the Town I thought, in the days of the droving, Of steps I might hope to retrace, To be done with the bush and the roving And settle once more in my place. With a heart that was well nigh to breaking, In the long, lonely rides on the plain, I thought of the pleasure of taking […]...
29. What the Miner in the Desert Said The moon’s a brass-hooped water-keg, A wondrous water-feast. If I could climb the ridge and drink And give drink to my beast; If I could drain that keg, the flies Would not be biting so, My burning feet be spry again, My mule no longer slow. And I could rise and dig for ore, And […]...
30. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
31. March Slayer of the winter, art thou here again? O welcome, thou that’s bring’st the summer nigh! The bitter wind makes not thy victory vain, Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky. Welcome, O March! whose kindly days and dry Make April ready for the throstle’s song, Thou first redresser of the winter’s […]...
32. AN HYMN TO THE MUSES Honour to you who sit Near to the well of wit, And drink your fill of it! Glory and worship be To you, sweet Maids, thrice three, Who still inspire me; And teach me how to sing Unto the lyric string, My measures ravishing! Then, while I sing your praise, My priest-hood crown with bays […]...
33. The Little Vagabond Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, But the Ale-house is healthy & pleasant & warm: Besides I can tell where I am use’d well, Such usage in heaven will never do well. But if at the Church they would give us some Ale. And a pleasant fire, our souls to regale: We’d sing […]...
34. Dear March Come in Dear March Come in How glad I am I hoped for you before Put down your Hat You must have walked How out of Breath you are Dear March, Come right up the stairs with me I have so much to tell I got your Letter, and the Birds The Maples never knew that you […]...
35. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
36. It Is March It is March and black dust falls out of the books Soon I will be gone The tall spirit who lodged here has Left already On the avenues the colorless thread lies under Old prices When you look back there is always the past Even when it has vanished But when you look forward With […]...
37. The Lost Drink I had spent the night in the watch-house My head was the size of three So I went and asked the chemist To fix up a drink for me; And he brewed it from various bottles With soda and plenty of ice, With something that smelt like lemon, And something that seemed like spice. It […]...
38. Song. Mediocrity in love rejected GIVE me more love or more disdain ; The torrid or the frozen zone Bring equal ease unto my pain, The temperate affords me none : Either extreme of love or hate, Is sweeter than a calm estate. Give me a storm ; if it be love, Like Danaл in that golden shower, I swim […]...
39. Mediocrity in Love Rejected Give me more love or more disdain; The torrid, or the frozen zone, Bring equal ease unto my pain; The temperate affords me none; Either extreme, of love, or hate, Is sweeter than a calm estate. Give me a storm; if it be love, Like Danae in that golden show’r I swim in pleasure; if […]...
40. Sonnets XXV: Let those who are in favour with their stars Let those who are in favour with their stars Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most. Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread But as the marigold at the sun’s eye, And in themselves their pride lies buried, For […]...