Singing larks I saw for sale — (Ah! the pain of it) Plucked and ready to impale On a roasting spit; Happy larks that summer—long

Now Kelly was no fighter; He loved his pipe and glass; An easygoing blighter, Who lived in Montparnasse. But 'mid the tavern tattle

Oh how I love the laughing sea, Sun lances splintering; Or with a virile harmony In salty caves to sing; Or mumbling pebbles on the shore,

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

Since I am sick of Wheels That jar my day, Unto the hush that heals I steal away. Unto the core of Peace

I hate my neighbour Widow Green; I’d like to claw her face; But if I did she’d make a scene And run me round the place: For widows are in way of spleen

“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…

Son put a poser up to me That made me scratch my head: “God made the whole wide world,” q… “That’s right, my boy,” I said. Said son: “He mad the mountains s…

With barbwire hooch they filled hi… Till he was drunker than all hell, And then they peddled him the bull About a claim they had to sell. A thousand bucks they made him pay…

The Men of Seville are, they say, The laziest of Spain. Consummate artists in delay, Allergical to strain; Fr if you have a job for them,

I’m crawlin’ out in the mangolds t… Joe, my pal, and a good un (God!… I’m sick o’ seein’ him lyin’ like… I’m crawlin’ out in the beet—field… ’E might 'a bin makin’ munitions —…

“Tuberculosis should not be,” The old professor said. “If folks would hearken unto me 'Twould save a million dead. Nay, no consumptive needs to die,

Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips, And the mouth so mocking gay, A wanton you to the finger—tips, Who break men’s hearts in play; A thing of dust I have striven fo…

O Sacred Muse, my lyre excuse! — My verse is vagrant singing; Rhyme I invoke for simple folk Of penny—wise upbringing: For Grannies grey to paste away

I asked of ancient gaffers three The way of their ripe living, And this is what they told to me Without Misgiving. The First: 'The why I’ve lived s…