Victory Stuff
What d’ye think, lad; what d’ye think, As the roaring crowds go by? As the banners flare and the brasses blare And the great guns rend the sky? As the women laugh like they’d
Ant Hill
Black ants have made a musty mound My purple pine tree under, And I am often to be found, Regarding it with wonder. Yet as I watch, somehow it;s odd, Above their busy striving
Teddy Bear
O Teddy Bear! with your head awry And your comical twisted smile, You rub your eyes do you wonder why You’ve slept such a long, long while? As you lay so still in the
Class-Mates
Bob Briggs went in for Government, And helps to run the State; Some day they say he’ll represent His party in debate: But with punk politics his job, I do not envy Bob. Jim
Fore-Warning
I’d rather be the Jester than the Minstrel of the King; I’d rather jangle cap and bells than twang the stately harp; I’d rather make his royal ribs with belly-laughter ring, Than see him
The Reckoning
It’s fine to have a blow-out in a fancy restaurant, With terrapin and canvas-back and all the wine you want; To enjoy the flowers and music, watch the pretty women pass, Smoke a choice
The Mole
Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And
Rosy-Kins
As home from church we two did plod, “Grandpa,” said Rosy, “What is God?” Seeking an answer to her mind, This is the best that I could find. . . . God is the
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
A Grain Of Sand
If starry space no limit knows And sun succeeds to sun, There is no reason to suppose Our earth the only one. ‘Mid countless constellations cast A million worlds may be, With each a
My Piney Wood
I have a tiny piney wood; My trees are only fifty, Yet give me shade and solitude For they are thick and thrifty. And every day to me they fling With largess undenying, Fat
Prayer
You talk o’ prayer an’ such – Well, I jest don’t know how; I guess I got as much Religion as a cow. I fight an’ drink an’ swear; Red hell I often raise,
The Under-Dogs
What have we done, Oh Lord, that we Are evil starred? How have we erred and sinned to be So scourged and scarred? Lash us, Oh Lord, with scorpion whips, We can but run;
The Healer
“Tuberculosis should not be,” The old professor said. “If folks would hearken unto me ‘Twould save a million dead. Nay, no consumptive needs to die, A cure have I. “From blood of turtle I’ve
Death's Way
Old Man Death’s a lousy heel who will not play the game: Let Graveyard yawn and doom down crash, he’ll sneer and turn away. But when the sky with rapture rings and joy is