From wrath—red dawn to wrath—red d… The guns have brayed without abate… And now the sick sun looks upon The bleared, blood—boltered fields… As if it loathed to rise again.
The Rector met a little lass Who led a heifer by a rope. Said he: “Why don’t you go to Mas… Do you not want to please the Pop… The village maiden made reply,
. . . So I walked among the willo… There was no moon at all, at all;… There was no light at all, at all;… And I called him as his mother ca… Oh I called him all the night—tim…
Grimy men with picks and shovels Who in darkness sweat unseen, Climb from out your lousy hovels, Build a palace for the Queen; Praise the powers that be for givi…
Each day when it’s anighing three Old Dick looks at the clock, Then proudly brings my stick to me To mind me of our walk. And in his doggy rapture he
Out of the wood my White Knight c… His eyes were bright with a bitter… As I clung to his stirrup leather… For I was only a dreaming lad, Yet oh, what a wonderful faith I…
My mother loved her horses and Her hounds of pedigree; She did not kiss the baby hand I held to her in glee. Of course I had a sweet nou—nou
Say! You’ve struck a heap of trou… Bust in business, lost your wife; No one cares a cent about you, You don’t care a cent for life; Hard luck has of hope bereft you,
Deeming that I was due to die I framed myself a coffin; So full of graveyard zeal was I, I set the folks a—laughing. I made it snugly to my fit,
The cruel war was over—oh, the tri… We watched the troops returning, t… There was triumph, triumph, triump… And you scarce could hear the musi… And you scarce could see the house…
When I was brash and gallant—gay Just fifty years ago, I hit the ties and beat my way From Maine to Mexico; For though to Glasgow gutter bred
It was foretold by sybils three that in an air crash he would die. “I’ll fool their prophesy,” said h… “You won’t get me to go on high. Howe’re the need for haste and spe…
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…
On the tide you ride head high, Like a whale 'mid little fishes; I should envy you as I Help my wife to wash the dishes. Yet frock—coat and stove—pipe hat
That Barret, the painter of pictu… And Fanning, the maker of music,… And Harley, the writer of stories… To hark to their talk in the trenc… Of the day when the war would be o…