An Old Master (Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis Poems)
We were cartin' lathes and palin's from the slopes of Mount St. Leonard,With our axles near the road-bed and the ...
We were cartin' lathes and palin's from the slopes of Mount St. Leonard,With our axles near the road-bed and the ...
O thou son of the dark locks and eloquent tongue,With the brain of a statesman sagacious, and strong,And the heart ...
June 4th! Do you know what that date means? June 4th! By this air and these pines!Well,--only you know how ...
Ses Cullen, the cockie, he ses to me:"Now, I puts it to you in this way:If a feller....(Woah, Ginger! Come ...
I'm Professor McCann; I'm the memory man.I've a memory no-one would suspect.I remember things you've all forgottenAnd remember what I ...
I'm sitting alone by the fire, Dressed just as I came from the dance,In a robe even YOU would admire,-- ...
We were cartin' lathes and palin's from the slopes of Mount St. Leonard,With our axles near the road-bed and the ...
'Twas a winter night at the Diamond Bar,The wind was blowin' cold.The Dipper swung 'round the dim North StarAnd the ...
YOU'VE heard a good deal of the telephone wires," He said as we sat at our ease,And talked ...
MILDRED McGee was a beautiful blond, As fair as peroxide could make her. She was never so shy that a ...
There was a young patrolman who Had large but tender feet; They always hurt him badly when He walked upon ...
There was a man in New York City (His name was George Adolphus Knight) So soft of heart he wept ...
The porter in the Pullman car Was charming, as they sometimes are. He scanned my baggage tags: "Are you The ...
I've sung of Violet de Vere, that slinky, minky dame, Of Gertie of the Diamond Tooth, and Touch-the-Button Nell, And ...
The mule-skinner was Bill Jerome, the passengers were three; Two tinhorns from the dives of Nome, and Father Tim McGee. ...
"The spirits do not like the light," The medium said, and turned the switch; The little lady on my right ...
When Chewed-ear Jenkins got hitched up to Guinneyveer McGee, His flowin' locks, ye recollect, wuz frivolous an' free; But in ...
There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have ...
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