Her smile ineffably is sweet, Devinely she is slim; Yet oh how weary are her feet, How aches her every limb! Thank God it’s near to closing ti…
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
Said President MacConnachie to T… “We ought to have a piper for our… Yon squakin’ saxophone gives me th… I’m sick of jazz, I want to hear… “Alas! it’s true,” said Tam MacC…
I look at no one, me; I pass them on the stair; Shadows! I don’t see; Shadows! everywhere. Haunting, taunting, staring, glari…
A child saw in the morning skies The dissipated—looking moon, And opened wide her big blue eyes, And cried: “Look, look, my lost b… And clapped her rosy hands with gl…
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 —
Sez I: My Country calls? Well, l… I grins perlitely and declines wiv… Go, let ‘em plaster every blighted… ’Ere’s ONE they don’t stampede i… Them politicians with their greasy…
When Jack took Nell into his arms He knew he acted ill, And thought as he enjoyed her char… Of his fiancée Jill. “Poor dear,” he sighed, “she dream…
He dreamed away his hours in schoo… He sat with such an absent air, The master reckoned him a fool, And gave him up in dull despair. When other lads were making hay
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 —…
I to a crumpled cabin came upon a hillside high, And with me was a withered dame As weariful as I. “It used to be our home,” she said…
France is the fairest land on eart… Lovely to heart’s desire, And twice a year I span its girth… Its beauty to admire. But when a pub I seek each night,
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,
Between the cliff—rise and the bea… A slip of emerald I own; With fig and olive, almond, peach, cherry and plum—tree overgrown; Glad—watered by a crystal spring
One spoke: “Come, let us gaily go With laughter, love and lust, Since in a century or so We’ll all be boneyard dust. When unborn shadows hold the scree…