Home ⇒ 📌Robert William Service ⇒ The Shorter Catechism
The Shorter Catechism
I burned my fingers on the stove
And wept with bitterness;
But poor old Auntie Maggie strove
To comfort my distress.
Said she: ‘Think, lassie, how you’ll burn
Like any wicked besom
In fires of hell if you don’t learn
Your Shorter Catechism.’
A man’s chief end is it began,
(No mention of a woman’s),
To glorify I think it ran,
The God who made poor humans.
And as I learned, I thought: if this
(My distaste growing stronger),
The Shorter Catechism is,
Lord save us from the longer.
The years have passed and I begin
(Although I’m far from clever),
To doubt if when we die in sin
Our bodies grill forever.
Now I’ve more surface space to burn,
Since I am tall and lissom,
I think it’s hell enough to learn
The Shorter Catechism.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Summer is shorter than any one Summer is shorter than any one Life is shorter than Summer Seventy Years is spent as quick As an only Dollar Sorrow now is polite and stays See how well we spurn him Equally to abhor Delight Equally retain him...
- Tom That Tom was poor was sure a pity, Such guts for learning had the lad; He took to Greek like babe to titty, And he was mathematic mad. I loved to prime him up with knowledge, A brighter lad I never knew; I dreamed that he would go to college And there be honoured too. […]...
- The Myth of Arthur O learned man who never learned to learn, Save to deduce, by timid steps and small, From towering smoke that fire can never burn And from tall tales that men were never tall. Say, have you thought what manner of man it is Of who men say “He could strike giants down” ? Or what […]...
- A Creature Catechism I Soul, what art thou in the tribes of the sea? LORD, said a flying fish, Below the foundations of storm We feel the primal wish Of the earth take form. Through the dim green water-fire We see the red sun loom, And the quake of a new desire Takes hold on us down in […]...
- Cradle Song What does little birdie say In her nest at peep of day? Let me fly, says little birdie, Mother, let me fly away. Birdie, rest a little longer, Till thy little wings are stronger. So she rests a little longer, Then she flies away. What does little baby say, In her bed at peep of […]...
- Seeing For A Moment I thought I was growing wings- It was a cocoon. I thought, now is the time to step Into the fire- It was deep water. Eschatology is a word I learned As a child: the study of Last Things; Facing my mirror-no longer young, the news-always of death, the dogs-rising from sleep and clamoring and […]...
- Futility Dusting my books I spent a busy day: Not ancient toes, time-hallowed and unread, But modern volumes, classics in their way, Whose makers now are numbered with the dead; Men of a generation more than mine, With whom I tattled, battled and drank wine. I worshipped them, rejoiced in their success, Grudging them not the […]...
- Because I could not stop for Death Because I could not stop for Death He kindly stopped for me The Carriage held but just Ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the School, where Children strove At recess in the ring We passed […]...
- The Ladies I’ve taken my fun where I’ve found it; I’ve rouged an’ I’ve ranged in my time; I’ve ‘ad my pickin’ o’ seethearts, An’ four o’ the lot was prime. One was an ‘arf-caste widow, One was awoman at Prome, One was the wife of a jemadar-sais An’ one is a girl at ‘ome. Now I […]...
- You Begin You begin this way: This is your hand, This is your eye, This is a fish, blue and flat On the paper, almost The shape of an eye This is your mouth, this is an O Or a moon, whichever You like. This is yellow. Outside the window Is the rain, green Because it is […]...
- Death Come thou, thou last one, whom I recognize, Unbearable pain throughout this body’s fabric: As I in my spirit burned, see, I now burn in thee: The wood that long resisted the advancing flames Which thou kept flaring, I now am nourishinig And burn in thee. My gentle and mild being through thy ruthless fury […]...
- Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day Calmly we walk through this April’s day, Metropolitan poetry here and there, In the park sit pauper and rentier, The screaming children, the motor-car Fugitive about us, running away, Between the worker and the millionaire Number provides all distances, It is Nineteen Thirty-Seven now, Many great dears are taken away, What will become of you […]...
- To Fly In Just Your Suit Humans are flown, or fall; Humans can’t fly. We’re down with the gravity-stemmers, Rare, thick-boned, often basso. Most animals above the tides are airborne. Typically tuned keen, they Throw the ground away with wire feet And swoop rings round it. Magpies, listening askance For their food in and under lawn, Strut so hair-trigger they almost […]...
- Pity Me Not Because The Light Of Day Pity me not because the light of day At close of day no longer walks the sky; Pity me not for beauties passed away From field and thicket as the the year goes by; Pity me not the waning of the moon, Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea, Nor that a man’s […]...
- Take It Easy When I was boxing in the ring In ‘Frisco back in ninety-seven, I used to make five bucks a fling To give as good as I was given. But when I felt too fighting gay, And tried to be a dinger-donger, My second, Mike Muldoon. would say: “Go easy, kid; you’ll stay the longer.” When […]...
- Contrast “Carry your suitcase, Sir?” he said. I turned away to hide a grin, For he was shorter by a head Than I and pitiably thin. I could have made a pair of him, So with my load I stoutly legged; But his tenacity was grim: “Please let me help you, sir,” he begged. I could […]...
- Privacy Oh you who are shy of the popular eye, (Though most of us seek to survive it) Just think of the goldfish who wanted to die Because she could never be private. There are pebbles and reeds for aquarium needs Of eel and of pike who are bold fish; But who gives a thought to […]...
- A Woman Unconscious Russia and America circle each other; Threats nudge an act that were without doubt A melting of the mould in the mother, Stones melting about the root. The quick of the earth burned out: The toil of all our ages a loss With leaf and insect. Yet flitting thought (Not to be thought ridiculous) Shies […]...
- Had I known that the first was the last Had I known that the first was the last I should have kept it longer. Had I known that the last was the first I should have drunk it stronger. Cup, it was your fault, Lip was not the liar. No, lip, it was yours, Bliss was most to blame....
- Joey I thought I would go daft when Joey died. He was my first, and wise beyond his years. For nigh a hundred nights I cried and cried, Until my weary eyes burned up my tears. Willie and Rosie tried to comfort me: A woeful, weeping family were we. I was a widow with no friends […]...
- The Poplar Field The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade: The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives. Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a view Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew, And […]...
- Thou Strainest Through The Mountain Fern THOU strainest through the mountain fern, A most exiguously thin Burn. For all thy foam, for all thy din, Thee shall the pallid lake inurn, With well-a-day for Mr. Swin-Burne! Take then this quarto in thy fin And, O thou stoker huge and stern, The whole affair, outside and in, Burn! But save the true […]...
- The Yukoner He burned a hole in frozen muck, He pierced the icy mould, And there in six-foot dirt he struck A sack or so of gold. He burned holes in the Decalogue, And then it cam about, For Fortune’s just a lousy rogue, His “pocket” petered out. And lo! ’twas but a year all told, When […]...
- Examination at the Womb-Door Who owns those scrawny little feet? Death. Who owns this bristly scorched-looking face? Death. Who owns these still-working lungs? Death. Who owns this utility coat of muscles? Death. Who owns these unspeakable guts? Death. Who owns these questionable brains? Death. All this messy blood? Death. These minimum-efficiency eyes? Death. This wicked little tongue? Death. This […]...
- Ad Quintilianum O CHIEF director of the growing race, Of Rome the glory and of Rome the grace, Me, O Quintilian, may you not forgive Before from labour I make haste to live? Some burn to gather wealth, lay hands on rule, Or with white statues fill the atrium full. The talking hearth, the rafters sweet with […]...
- For Harry (My College Room-mate who Died) He cut his hand and it bled, the flesh Inside was red and the hurt discounted the flood Of red and vibrant blood that pulsed From the wound. But he was a warrior, A son whose mien would not countenance the pain And he bound the wound in strips of flax And stalked from the […]...
- Russian Sonia I, born in Weimar Of a mother who was French And German father, a most learned professor, Orphaned at fourteen years, Became a dancer, known as Russian Sonia, All up and down the boulevards of Paris, Mistress betimes of sundry dukes and counts, And later of poor artists and of poets. At forty years, passée, […]...
- This Then it’s the same as before Or the other time Or the time before that. Here’s a cock And here’s a cunt And here’s trouble. Only each time You think Well now I’ve learned: I’ll let her do that And I’ll do this, I no longer want it all, Just some comfort And some sex And […]...
- She, to Him, II Perhaps, long hence, when I have passed away, Some other’s feature, accent, thought like mine, Will carry you back to what I used to say, And bring some memory of your love’s decline. Then you may pause awhile and think, “Poor jade!” And yield a sigh to me-as gift benign, Not as the tittle of […]...
- The Twins There were two brothers, John and James, And when the town went up in flames, To save the house of James dashed John, Then turned, and lo! his own was gone. And when the great World War began, To volunteer John promptly ran; And while he learned live bombs to lob, James stayed at home […]...
- Sensibility I Once, when a boy, I killed a cat. I guess it’s just because of that A cat evokes my tenderness, And takes so kindly my caress. For with a rich, resonant purr It sleeks an arch or ardent fur So vibrantly against my shin; And as I tickle tilted chin And rub the roots […]...
- The Good Man in Hell If a good man were ever housed in Hell By needful error of the qualities, Perhaps to prove the rule or shame the devil, Or speak the truth only a stranger sees, Would he, surrendering quick to obvious hate, Fill half eternity with cries and tears, Or watch beside Hell’s little wicket gate In patience […]...
- The Sunken Crown Nothing will hold him longer-let him go; Let him go down where others have gone down; Little he cares whether we smile or frown, Or if we know, or if we think we know. The call is on him for his overthrow, Say we; so let him rise, or let him drown. Poor fool! He […]...
- Rebecca Wasson Spring and Summer, Fall and Winter and Spring, After each other drifting, past my window drifting! And I lay so many years watching them drift and counting The years till a terror came in my heart at times, With the feeling that I had become eternal; at last My hundredth year was reached! And still […]...
- A Bachelor ‘Why keep a cow when I can buy,’ Said he, ‘the milk I need,’ I wanted to spit in his eye Of selfishness and greed; But did not, for the reason he Was stronger than I be. I told him: ”Tis our human fate, For better or for worse, That man and maid should love […]...
- London Bridge “Do I hear them? Yes, I hear the children singing-and what of it? Have you come with eyes afire to find me now and ask me that? If I were not their father and if you were not their mother, We might believe they made a noise…. What are you-driving at!” “Well, be glad that […]...
- Age and Youth WE have left our youth behind: Earth is in its baby years: Void of wisdom cries the wind, And the sunlight knows no tears. When shall twilight feel the awe, All the rapt thought of the sage, And the lips of wind give law Drawn from out their lore of age? When shall earth begin […]...
- Your Hay It Is Mow'd, And Your Corn Is Reap'd (Comus.) Your hay it is mow’d, and your corn is reap’d; Your barns will be full, and your hovels heap’d: Come, my boys, come; Come, my boys, come; And merrily roar out Harvest Home. (Chorus.) Come, my boys, come; Come, my boys, come; And merrily roar out Harvest Home. (Man.) We ha’ cheated the parson, […]...
- Aunt Jane When Aunt Jane died we hunted round, And money everywhere we found. How much I do not care to say, But no death duties will we pay, And Aunt Jane will be well content We bilked the bloody Government. While others spent she loved to save, But couldn’t take it to her grave. While others […]...
- The Professional Wanderer When you’ve knocked about the country-been away from home for years; When the past, by distance softened, nearly fills your eyes with tears – You are haunted oft, wherever or however you may roam, By a fancy that you ought to go and see the folks at home. You forget the family quarrels-little things that […]...