Oh, it’s pleasant sitting here, Seeing all the people pass; You beside your bock of beer, I behind my demi—tasse. Chatting of no matter what.

Enthusiastic was the crowd That hailed him with delight; The wine was bright, the laughter… And glorious the night. But when at dawn he drove away

I wonder ‘oo and wot ’e was, That 'Un I got so slick. I couldn’t see ‘is face because The night was ’ideous thick. I just made out among the black

With belly like a poisoned pup Said I: ‘I must give bacon up: And also, I profanely fear, I must abandon bread and beer That make for portliness they say;

Three times I had the lust to kil… To clutch a throat so young and fa… And squeeze with all my might unti… No breath of being lingered there. Three times I drove the demon out…

Let others sing of Empire and of… A song of Little Puddleton is goo… A song of kindly living, and of co… I seldom read the papers, so I do… I go to bed at sunset, and I leap…

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;

Mary and I were twenty—two When we were wed; A well—matched pair, right smart t… The town’s folk said. For twenty years I have been true

Courage mes gars: La guerre est proche. I plant my little plot of beans, I sit beneath my cyprus tree; I do not know what trouble means,

In the Northland there were three Pukka Pliers of the pen; Two of them had Fame in fee And were loud and lusty men; By them like a shrimp was I —

'A shilling’s worth of quinine, pl… The customer demanded. The druggist went down on his knee… And from a cupboard handed The waiting man a tiny flask:

To be a bony feed Sourdough You must, by Yukon Law, Have killed a moose, And robbed a sluice, AND BUNKED UP WITH A SQU…

My job is done; my rhymes are rank… My word-battalions marching verse… Here stanza-companies are none too… There print-platoons are weak, but… And as in marshalled order I revi…

I have some friends, some worthy f… And worthy friends are rare: These carpet slippers on my feet, That padded leather chair; This old and shabby dressing—gown,

The chapel looms against the sky, Above the vine—clad shelves, And as the peasants pass it by They cross themselves. But I alone, I grieve to state,