Duello
A Frenchman and an Englishman Resolved to fight a duel, And hit upon a savage plan, Because their hate was cruel. They each would fire a single shot In room of darkness pitchy, And
At San Sebastian
The Countess sprawled beside the sea As naked a she well could be; Indeed her only garments were A “G” string and a brassière Her washerwoman was amazed, And at the lady gazed and
The Pines
We sleep in the sleep of ages, the bleak, barbarian pines; The gray moss drapes us like sages, and closer we lock our lines, And deeper we clutch through the gelid gloom where never
The Enigma
The Sergeant of a Highland Reg- -Iment was drilling of his men; With temper notably on edge He blest them every now and then. A sweet old lady standing by, Was looking on with
Alias Bill
We bore him to his boneyard lot One afternoon at three; The clergyman was on the spot To earn his modest fee. We sprinkled on his coffin ld The customary loam, And so old
Shiela
When I played my penny whistle on the braes above Lochgyle The heather bloomed about us, and we heard the peewit call; As you bent above your knitting something fey was in your smile,
Local Lad
I never saw a face so bright With brilliant blood and joy, As was the grinning mug last night Of Dick, our local boy, When with a clumsy, lucky clout He knocked the champion
The Ballad Of The Brand
‘Twas up in a land long famed for gold, where women were far and rare, Tellus, the smith, had taken to wife a maiden amazingly fair; Tellus, the brawny worker in iron, hairy and
The Wonderer
I wish that I could understand The moving marvel of my Hand; I watch my fingers turn and twist, The supple bending of my wrist, The dainty touch of finger-tip, The steel intensity of
Abandoned Dog
They dumped it on the lonely road, Then like a streak they sped; And as along the way I strode I thought that it was dead: And then I saw that yelping pup Rise,
Gipsy
The poppies that in Spring I sow, In rings of radiance gleam and glow, Like lords and ladies gay. A joy are they to dream beside, As in the air of eventide They flutter,
A Casualty
That boy I took in the car last night, With the body that awfully sagged away, And the lips blood-crisped, and the eyes flame-bright, And the poor hands folded and cold as clay Oh,
Bill's Grave
I’m gatherin’ flowers by the wayside to lay on the grave of Bill; I’ve sneaked away from the billet, ’cause Jim wouldn’t understand; ‘E’d call me a silly fat’ead, and larf till it made
Allouette
Singing larks I saw for sale – (Ah! the pain of it) Plucked and ready to impale On a roasting spit; Happy larks that summer-long Stormed the radiant sky, Adoration in their song. .
A Song For Kilts
How grand the human race would be If every man would wear a kilt, A flirt of Tartan finery, Instead of trousers, custom built! Nay, do not think I speak to joke: (You know