In Spadger’s Lane (C J Dennis Poems)
Ole Mother Moon 'oo yanks 'er beamin' dile Acrost the sky when we've grown sick o' day,She's like some fat ...
Ole Mother Moon 'oo yanks 'er beamin' dile Acrost the sky when we've grown sick o' day,She's like some fat ...
Me photer's in the papers! 'Oly wars! A 'ero, I've been called in big, black type. I 'ad ...
Parson says I'm to make 'im a crossTo set up over his grave,'E's buried there by the Moated Grange,And I ...
'E's a tough ole salt, With a 'ide well tanned, ...
I wus pickin' gipsy vi'lits fer to try an' square Doreen.We 'ad words . . . about pianners - fer ...
The little gipsy vi'lits, they wus peepin' thro' the greenAs she come walkin' in the grass, me little wife, Doreen. ...
Ar, these is 'appy days! An' 'ow they've flown - Flown like the smoke of some inchanted fag;Since dear Doreen, ...
The world 'as got me snouted jist a treat; Crool Forchin's dirty left 'as smote me soul;An' all them joys ...
Young friend, 'e sez . . . Young friend! Well, spare me days! Yeh'd think I wus 'is own white ...
Yes, it's tryin', Mrs Gudgits. Very tryin', as you say.To 'ave a 'usban' on yer 'an's not only night but ...
When days are getting' short an' cold, an' the long nights begin,With waves like mountains rollin' high, an' the norther ...
So nice it is of you to call . . . Yes; Monday week we done it;Right 'igh-clarse weddin' ...
Oh, there ain't no band to cheer us up, there ain't no 'Ighland pipersTo keep our warlike ardure warm round ...
'We are 'ere met togetherin this momentous hower,Ter lick th' bankers' dirty bootsan' keep the Bank in power.'We are 'ere ...
The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time -- So was them that fought at Waterloo! ...
Through the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi, Gettin' down an' shovin' in the sun; An' you might 'ave ...
(Mobile Columns of the Boer War) Out o' the wilderness, dusty an' dry (Time, an' 'igh time to be trekkin' ...
Me that 'ave been what I've been -- Me that 'ave gone where I've gone -- Me that 'ave seen ...
No, Bill, I'm not a-spooning out no patriotic tosh (The cove be'ind the sandbags ain't a death-or-glory cuss). And though ...
The poppies gleamed like bloody pools through cotton-woolly mist; The Captain kept a-lookin' at the watch upon his wrist; And ...
My friend is lodging high in the Eastern Range, Dearly loving the beauty of valleys and hills. At green Spring ...
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