The Ballad of Fisher's Boarding-House
‘T was Fultah Fisher’s boarding-house, Where sailor-men reside, And there were men of all the ports From Mississip to Clyde, And regally they spat and smoked, And fearsomely they lied. They lied about the
Tarrant Moss
I closed and drew for my love’s sake That now is false to me, And I slew the Reiver of Tarrant Moss And set Dumeny free. They have gone down, they have gone down,
Mine Sweepers
Dawn off the Foreland the young flood making Jumbled and short and steep Black in the hollows and bright where it’s breaking Awkward water to sweep. “Mines reported in the fairway, “Warn all traffic
A Song of the White Men
1899 Now, this is the cup the White Men drink When they go to right a wrong, And that is the cup of the old world’s hate Cruel and strained and strong. We have
The Puzzler
The Celt in all his variants from Builth to Ballyhoo, His mental processes are plain one knows what he will do, And can logically predicate his finish by his start; But the English ah,
Mother o' Mine
If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were drowned
The Kingdom
Now we are come to our Kingdom, And the State is thus and thus; Our legions wait at the Palace gate Little it profits us. Now we are come to our Kingdom! Now we
Sussex
God gave all men all earth to love, But, since our hearts are small Ordained for each one spot should prove Beloved over all; That, as He watched Creation’s birth, So we, in godlike
Jubal and Tubal Cain
Canadian Jubal sang of the Wrath of God And the curse of thistle and thorn But Tubal got him a pointed rod, And scrabbled the earth for corn. Old old as that early mould,
What Happened
Hurree Chunder Mookerjee, pride of Bow Bazaar, Owner of a native press, “Barrishter-at-Lar,” Waited on the Government with a claim to wear Sabres by the bucketful, rifles by the pair. Then the Indian Government
The Captive
Not with an outcry to Allah nor any complaining He answered his name at the muster and stood to the chaining. When the twin anklets were nipped on the leg-bars that held them, He
The Rhyme of the Three Captains
This ballad appears to refer to one of the exploits of the notorious Paul Jones, the American pirate. It is founded on fact. . . . At the close of a winter day, Their
Wilful Missing
(Deserters) There is a world outside the one you know, To which for curiousness ‘Ell can’t compare It is the place where “wilful-missings” go, As we can testify, for we are there. You may
Covenent
1914 We thought we ranked above the chance of ill. Others might fall, not we, for we were wise Merchants in freedom. So, of our free-will We let our servants drug our strength with
Shillin' a Day
My name is O’Kelly, I’ve heard the Revelly From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore, Hong-Kong and Peshawur, Lucknow and Etawah, And fifty-five more all endin’ in “pore”. Black Death and his quickness,