Two Kopjes
(Made Yeomanry towards End of Boer War)
Only two African kopjes,
Only the cart-tracks that wind
Empty and open between ’em,
Only the Transvaal behind;
Only an Aldershot column
Marching to conquer the land. . .
Only a sudden and solemn
Visit, unarmed, to the Rand.
Then scorn not the African kopje,
The kopje that smiles in the heat,
The wholly unoccupied kopje,
The home of Cornelius and Piet.
You can never be sure of your kopje,
But of this be you blooming well sure,
A kopje is always a kopje,
And a Boojer is always a Boer!
Only two African kopjes,
Only the vultures above,
Only baboons at the bottom,
Only some buck on the move;
Only a Kensington draper
Only pretending to scout. . .
.Only bad news for the paper,
Only another knock-out.
Then mock not the African kopje,
And rub not your flank on its side,
The silent and
The kopje beloved by the guide.
You can never be, etc.
Only two African kopjes,
Only the dust of their wheels,
Only a bolted commando,
Only our guns at their heels. . .
Only a little barb-wire,
Only a natural fort,
Only “by sections retire,”
Only “regret to report! “
Then mock not the. African kopje,
Especially when it is twins,
One sharp and one table-topped kopje
For that’s where the trouble begins.
You never can be, etc.
Only two African kopjes
Baited the same as before
Only we’ve had it so often,
Only we’re taking no more. . .
Only a wave to our troopers,
Only our flanks swinging past,
Only a dozen voorloopers,.
Only we’ve learned it at last!
Then mock not the African kopje,
But take off your hat
The patient, impartial old kopje,
The kopje that taught us the game!
For all that we knew in the Columns,
And all they’ve forgot on the Staff,
We learned at the Fight o’ Two Kopjes,
Which lasted two years an’ a half.
0 mock not the African kopje,
Not even when peace has been signed
The kopje that isn’t a kopje
The kopje that copies its kind.
You can never be sure of your kopje,
But of this be you blooming well sure,
That a kopje is always a kopje,
And a Boojer is always a Boer!
Related poetry:
- Johnny Boer Men fight all shapes and sizes as the racing horses run, And no man knows his courage till he stands before a gun. At mixed-up fighting, hand to hand, and clawing men about They reckon Fuzzy-Wuzzy is the hottest fighter out. But Fuzzy gives himself away his style is out of date, He charges like […]...
- Tommy I went into a public-‘ouse to get a pint o’ beer, The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.” The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die, I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I: O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go […]...
- AFRICAN WRITINGS If you meet literature from Africa Or even their mentors In such works You realize a trait of madness Pumping into the throbbing poetics. There is a knack in it that sparks alight The nearest shrubs; Intrigue and sensation incomparable. The heart of African literature Pumping wordy blood into fragile young minds. Rejuvenating the African […]...
- Blood Oranges In 1936, a child In Hitler’s Germany, What did I know about the war in Spain? Andalusia was a tango On a wind-up gramophone, Franco a hero’s face in the paper. No one told me about a poet For whose sake I might have learned Spanish Bleeding to death on a barren hill. All I […]...
- Farewell Love and All Thy Laws Forever Farewell love and all thy laws forever; Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more. Senec and Plato call me from thy lore To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavour. In blind error when I did persever, Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore, Hath taught me to set in trifles no store […]...
- Mock On, Mock On, Voltaire, Rousseau Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau; Mock on, mock on; ’tis all in vain! You throw the sand against the wind, And the wind blows it back again. And every sand becomes a gem Reflected in the beams divine; Blown back they blind the mocking eye, But still in Israel’s paths they shine. The Atoms […]...
- 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 […]...
- The Fury Of Cocks There they are Drooping over the breakfast plates, Angel-like, Folding in their sad wing, Animal sad, And only the night before There they were Playing the banjo. Once more the day’s light comes With its immense sun, Its mother trucks, Its engines of amputation. Whereas last night The cock knew its way home, As stiff […]...
- Ka ‘Ba A closed window looks down On a dirty courtyard, and black people Call across or scream or walk across Defying physics in the stream of their will Our world is full of sound Our world is more lovely than anyone’s Tho we suffer, and kill each other And sometimes fail to walk the air We […]...
- At The Abbey Theatre (Imitated from Ronsard) Dear Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into our case. When we are high and airy hundreds say That if we hold that flight they’ll leave the place, While those same hundreds mock another day Because we have made our art of common things, So bitterly, you’d dream they longed to look All their lives […]...
- Now Listen to Me and I'll Tell You My Views Now listen to me and I’ll tell you my views concerning the African war, And the man who upholds any different views, the same is a ritten Pro-Boer! (Though I’m getting a little bit doubtful myself, as it drags on week after week: But it’s better not ask any questions at all let us silence […]...
- Summer begins to have the look Summer begins to have the look Peruser of enchanting Book Reluctantly but sure perceives A gain upon the backward leaves Autumn begins to be inferred By millinery of the cloud Or deeper color in the shawl That wraps the everlasting hill. The eye begins its avarice A meditation chastens speech Some Dyer of a distant […]...
- 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 […]...
- Jock There’s a soldier that’s been doing of his share In the fighting up and down and round about. He’s continually marching here and there, And he’s fighting, morning in and morning out. The Boer, you see, he generally runs; But sometimes, when he hides behind a rock, And we can’t make no impression with the […]...
- Because Her Heart Is Tender, for Beth She scrawled soft words in soap: “Never Forget,” Dove-white on her car’s window, and the wren, Because her heart is tender, might regret It called the sun to wake her. As I slept, She heard lost names recounted, one by one. She wrote in sidewalk chalk: “Never Forget,” And kept her heart’s own counsel. No […]...
- Fed Up I ain’t a timid man at all, I’m just as brave as most, I’ll take my chance in open fight and die beside my post; But riding round the ‘ole day long as target for a Krupp, A-drawing fire from Koppies well, I’m fair fed up. It’s wonderful how few get hit, it’s luck that […]...
- Apologetic Postscript Of A Year Later IF you see this song, my dear, And last year’s toast, I’m confoundedly in fear You’ll be serious and severe About the boast. Blame not that I sought such aid To cure regret. I was then so lowly laid I used all the Gasconnade That I could get. Being snubbed is somewhat smart, Believe, my […]...
- Half-Ballad of Waterval (Non-commissioned Officers in Charge of Prisoners) When by the labor of my ‘ands I’ve ‘elped to pack a transport tight With prisoners for foreign lands, I ain’t transported with delight. I know it’s only just an’ right, But yet it somehow sickens me, For I ‘ave learned at Waterval The meanin’ of captivity. Be’ind the […]...
- Bahnhofstrasse The eyes that mock me sign the way Whereto I pass at eve of day. Grey way whose violet signals are The trysting and the twining star. Ah star of evil! star of pain! Highhearted youth comes not again Nor old heart’s wisdom yet to know The signs that mock me as I go....
- No way of going back It was my life in fast review, initially at double speed Until I learned which functions scrolled the images On screen. I could pause, freeze frame advance, Endlessly replay and alter sound although the thing Would not allow fast forward beyond the here and now; But I could live with that. For hours I was […]...
- Circe's Torment I regret bitterly The years of loving you in both Your presence and absence, regret The law, the vocation That forbid me to keep you, the sea A sheet of glass, the sun-bleached Beauty of the Greek ships: how Could I have power if I had no wish To transform you: as You loved my […]...
- Fearful Women Arms and the girl I sing – O rare Arms that are braceleted and white and bare Arms that were lovely Helen’s, in whose name Greek slaughtered Trojan. Helen was to blame. Scape-nanny call her; wars for turf And profit don’t sound glamorous enough. Mythologize your women! None escape. Europe was named from an act […]...
- End Of The World When I was young in school in Switzerland, about the time of the Boer War, We used to take it for known that the human race Would last the earth out, not dying till the planet died. I wrote a schoolboy poem About the last man walking in stoic dignity along the dead shore Of […]...
- Casting The waters deep, the waters dark, Reflect the seekers, hide the sought, Whether in water or in air to drown. Between them curls the silver spark, Barbed, baited, waiting, of a thought Which in the world is upside down, The fish hook or the question mark?...
- Love, We Must Part Now Love, we must part now: do not let it be Calamitious and bitter. In the past There has been too much moonlight and self-pity: Let us have done with it: for now at last Never has sun more boldly paced the sky, Never were hearts more eager to be free, To kick down worlds, lash […]...
- Widows My mother’s playing cards with my aunt, Spite and Malice, the family pastime, the game My grandmother taught all her daughters. Midsummer: too hot to go out. Today, my aunt’s ahead; she’s getting the good cards. My mother’s dragging, having trouble with her concentration. She can’t get used to her own bed this summer. She […]...
- Conversion African Guardian of Souls, Drunk with rum, Feasting on strange cassava, Yielding to new words and a weak palabra Of a white-faced sardonic god Grins, cries Amen, Shouts hosanna....
- Fear Not, Dear Friend, But Freely Live Your Days FEAR not, dear friend, but freely live your days Though lesser lives should suffer. Such am I, A lesser life, that what is his of sky Gladly would give for you, and what of praise. Step, without trouble, down the sunlit ways. We that have touched your raiment, are made whole From all the selfish […]...
- In Memoriam A. H. H.: Is it, then, regret for buried time Is it, then, regret for buried time That keenlier in sweet April wakes, And meets the year, and gives and takes The colours of the crescent prime? Not all: the songs, the stirring air, The life re-orient out of dust, Cry thro’ the sense to hearten trust In that which made the world so fair. […]...
- 536. Song-This is no my ain lassie Chorus-This is no my ain lassie, Fair tho, the lassie be; Weel ken I my ain lassie, Kind love is in her e’re. I SEE a form, I see a face, Ye weel may wi’ the fairest place; It wants, to me, the witching grace, The kind love that’s in her e’e. This is no […]...
- Phoenix Lyrics I If nature is life, nature is death: It is winter as it is spring: Confusion is variety, variety And confusion in everything Make experience the true conclusion Of all desire and opulence, All satisfaction and poverty. II When a hundred years had passed nature seemed to man a clock Another century sank away and […]...
- Forgetfulness The name of the author is the first to go Followed obediently by the title, the plot, The heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel Which suddenly becomes one you have never read, Never even heard of, As if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor Decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the […]...
- Pleasure XXIV Then a hermit, who visited the city once a year, came forth and said, “Speak to us of Pleasure.” And he answered, saying: Pleasure is a freedom song, But it is not freedom. It is the blossoming of your desires, But it is not their fruit. It is a depth calling unto a height, But […]...
- The Dead Drummer I They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest Uncoffined just as found: His landmark is a kopje-crest That breaks the veldt around; And foreign constellations west Each night above his mound. II Young Hodge the Drummer never knew – Fresh from his Wessex home – The meaning of the broad Karoo, The Bush, the dusty […]...
- Drummer Hodge They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest Uncoffined just as found: His landmark is a kopje-crest That breaks the veldt around: And foreign constellations west Each night above his mound. Young Hodge the drummer never knew Fresh from his Wessex home The meaning of the broad Karoo, The Bush, the dusty loam, And why uprose […]...
- The Learner I’ve learned Of all the friends I’ve won Dame Nature is the best, And to her like a child I run Craving her mother breast To comfort me in soul distress, And in green glade to find Far from the world’s unloveliness Pure peace of mind. I’ve learned the worth of simple ways, And though […]...
- Grin If you’re up against a bruiser and you’re getting knocked about Grin. If you’re feeling pretty groggy, and you’re licked beyond a doubt Grin. Don’t let him see you’re funking, let him know with every clout, Though your face is battered to a pulp, your blooming heart is stout; Just stand upon your pins until […]...
- I think the longest Hour of all I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come And we are waiting for the Coach It seems as though the Time Indignant that the Joy was come Did block the Gilded Hands And would not let the Seconds by But slowest instant ends The Pendulum begins to count Like little […]...
- Morning You know how it is waking From a dream certain you can fly And that someone, long gone, returned And you are filled with longing, For a brief moment, to drive off The road and feel nothing Or to see the loved one and feel Everything. Perhaps one morning, Taking brush to hair you’ll wonder […]...
- The Little Old Lady in Lavender Silk I was seventy-seven, come August, I shall shortly be losing my bloom; I’ve experienced zephyr and raw gust And (symbolical) flood and simoom. When you come to this time of abatement, To this passing from Summer to Fall, It is manners to issue a statement As to what you got out of it all. So […]...