How grand the human race would be If every man would wear a kilt, A flirt of Tartan finery, Instead of trousers, custom built! Nay, do not think I speak to joke…

Window Shopper I stood before a candy shop Which with a Christmas radiance s… I saw my parents pass and stop To grin at me and then go on.

Full well I trow that when I die Down drops the curtain; Another show is all my eye And Betty Martin. I know the score, and with a smile

I know how father’s strap would fe… If ever I were caught, So mother’s jam I did not steal, Though theft was in my thought. Then turned fourteen and full of p…

Bob Briggs went in for Government… And helps to run the State; Some day they say he’ll represent His party in debate: But with punk politics his job,

Let poets piece prismatic words, Give me the jewelled joy of birds! What ecstasy moves them to sing? Is it the lyric glee of Spring, The dewy rapture of the rose?

Each New Year’s Eve I used to br… On my misdoings of the past, And vowed: “This year I’ll be so… Well, haply better than the last.” My record of reforms I read

A gaunt and hoary slab of stone I found in desert place, And wondered why it lay alone In that abandoned place. Said I: ‘Maybe a Palace stood

tried to wash her garden slacks bu… And so she thought she’d soak 'em… It worked all right. She wrung 'e… With all that bucket load of high… She knew that it was dangerous to…

Since much has been your mirth And fair your fate, Friend, leave your lot of earth Less desolate. With frailing overdue,

I look into the aching womb of nig… I look across the mist that masks… The moon is tired and gives but li… The stars have gone to bed. The earth is sick and seems to bre…

The sheep are in the silver wood, The cows are in the broom; The goats are in the wild mountain And won’t be home by noon. My mother sang that olden tune

A passion to be free Has ever mastered me; To none beneath the sun Will I bow down,—not one Shall leash my liberty.

(16th January 1949) I thank whatever gods may be For all the happiness that’s mine; That I am festive, fit and free To savour women, wit and wine;

Oh I have worn my mourning out, And on her grave the green grass g… So I will hang each sorry clout High in the corn to scare the crow… And I will buy a peacock tie,