To—day within a grog—shop near I saw a newly captured linnet, Who beat against his cage in fear, And fell exhausted every minute; And when I asked the fellow there
I dreamed I saw three demi—gods w… And one was small and crapulous, a… And one was eaten up with vice and… The first he spoke of secret sins,… And velvet cats and courtesans vol…
Cinderella in the street In a ragged gown, Sloven slippers on her feet, Shames our tidy town; Harsh her locks of ashen grey,
No man can be a failure if he thin… he may not own his roof—tree overh… He may be on his uppers and have h… (Financially speaking —in the red) He may have chronic shortage to re…
Though I defy the howling horde As bloody—browed I smite, Back to the wall with shattered sw… When darkly dooms the night; Though hoarse they cheer as I go…
But yesterday I banked on fistic… Figgerin’ I’d be a champion of th… Today I’ve half a mind to quit th… For all them rosy dreams have take… Since last night a secondary bout
“Let’s make him a sailor,” said F… “And he will adventure the sea.” “A soldier,” said Mother, “is rat… What I would prefer him to be.” “A lawyer,” said Father, “would p…
Playboy I greet the challenge of the dawn With weary, bleary eyes; Into the sky so ashen wan I wait the sun to rise;
You’ve heard of Belching Billy, l… As punk a chunk of Yukon scum as… A satellite of Soapy Smith, a cap… A slimy tribute—taker from the La… But say, you never heard of how he…
All day with brow of anxious thoug… The dictionary through, Amid a million words he sought The sole one that would do. He wandered on from pub to pub
'God’ is composed of letters three… But if you put an 'l’ Before the last it seems to me A synonym for Hell. For all of envy, greed and hate
I stood beside the silken rope, Five dollars in my hand, And waited in my patient hope To sit anear the Band, And hear the famous Louie play
It was the steamer Alice May that… And touched in every river camp fr… It was her builder, owner, pilot,… Who took her through the angry ice… Who patched her cracks with gunny…
I never could imagine God: I don’t suppose I ever will. Beside His altar fire I nod With senile drowsiness but still In old of age as sight grows dim
Heaven’s mighty sweet, I guess; Ain’t no rush to git there: Been a sinner, more or less; Maybe wouldn’t fit there. Wicked still, bound to confess;