#1912 #AmericanWriters #RhymesOfARollingStone
Tick—tocking in my ear My dollar clock I hear. ‘Arise,’ it seems to say: ‘Behold another day To grasp the golden key
It’s my belief that every man Should do his share of work, And in our economic plan No citizen should shirk. That in return each one should get
It’s fine to have a blow—out in a… With terrapin and canvas—back and… To enjoy the flowers and music, wa… Smoke a choice cigar, and sip the… It’s bully in a high—toned joint t…
What man has not betrayed Some sacred trust? If haply you are made Of honest dust, Vaunt not of glory due,
He was my best and oldest friend. I’d known him all my life. And yet I’m sure towards the end He knew I loved his wife, And wonder, wonder if it’s why
I never kill a fly because I think that what we have of laws To regulate and civilize Our daily life —we owe to flies. Apropos, I’ll tell you of Choo, t…
A Belgian Priest—Soldier Speaks; GURR! You cochon! Stand and fig… Show your mettle! Snarl and bite! Spawn of an accursed race, Turn and meet me face to face!
Three Holies sat in sacred place And quaffed celestial wine, As they discussed the human race With dignity divine. Said they: 'Although in doctrine…
Mad Maria in the Square Sits upon a wicker chair. When the keeper asks the price Mad Maria counts her lice. No pesito can she pay,
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,
He wrote a play; by day and night He strove with passion and delight… Yet knew, long ere the curtain dro… His drama was a sorry flop. In Parliament he sought a seat;
When I have come with happy heart… I’ll buy a boat and sail away upon… And in a little lonely isle that’s… In peace and praise I’ll spend th… For I am weary of a strife so pit…
What are we fighting for, We fellows who go to war? fighting for Freedom’s sake! (You give me the belly—ache.) Freedom to starve or slave!
'Twas in the bleary middle of the… I was lonesome as a loon so if you… Imagine my emotions of amazement a… When I bumped into that Missionar… He was lying lost and dying in the…
The harridan who holds the inn At which I toss a pot, Is old and uglier than sin,— I’m glad she knows me not. Indeed, for me it’s hard to think,