#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Says Bauldy MacGreegor frae Gles… “That’s whit I hate maist aboot f… Noo jist hae a keek at yon ferm—ho… Weel, think o’ it, doon in the dun… A’ hell’s fairly belchin’ oot yonn…
Winnie When I went by the meadow gate The chestnut mare would trot to me… And as her coming I would wait, She’d whinney high as if to greet…
When you’re lost in the Wild, and… And Death looks you bang in the e… And you’re sore as a boil, it’s ac… To cock your revolver and . . . di… But the Code of a Man says: “Fig…
This is the tale that was told to… As I smoked my pipe in the camp—f… As the Northlights gleamed and cu… A man once aimed that my life be s… I vowed one day I would well repa…
If the good King only knew, Lindy Lou, What a cherub child are you, It is true, He would step down from his throne…
My lead dog Mike was like a bear; I reckon he was grizzly bred, For when he reared up in the air Ho over—topped me by a head. He’d cuff me with his hefty paws,
Of bosom friends I’ve had but sev… Despite my years are ripe; I hope they’re now enjoying Heave… Although they’re not the type; Nor, candidly, no more am I,
I’ve often wondered why Old chaps who choose to die In evil passes, Before themselves they slay, Invariably they
My Pa and Ma their honeymoon Passed in an Andulasian June, And though produced in Drury Lane… I must have been conceived in Spa… Now having lapsed from fair estate…
Mother focused with a frown The part of me where I sit down. Said she: “Your pants are wearing… Let me sew on a patch for you.” And so she did,—of azure blue.
One said: Thy life is thine to ma… To flicker feebly, or to soar, a s… It lies with thee—the choice is th… To hit the ties or drive thy auto—… I answered Her: The choice is min…
I loved to toy with tuneful rhyme, My fancies into verse to weave; For as I walked my words would ch… So bell—like I could scarce belie… My rhymes rippled like a brook,
You ask me what I call Success — It is, I wonder, Happiness? It is not wealth, it is not fame, Nor rank, nor power nor honoured n… It is not triumph in the Arts —
I’d rather be the Jester than the… I’d rather jangle cap and bells th… I’d rather make his royal ribs wit… Than see him sitting in the suds a… I’d rather be the Court buffoon t…
I sing of starry dreams come true, Of hopes fulfilled; Of rich reward beyond my due, Of harvest milled. The full fruition of the years