#1912 #AmericanWriters #RhymesOfARollingStone
They thought I’d be a champion; They boasted loud of me. A dozen victories I’d won, The Press was proud of me. I saw myself with glory crowned,
My mother loved her horses and Her hounds of pedigree; She did not kiss the baby hand I held to her in glee. Of course I had a sweet nou—nou
Because I’ve eighty years and odd… And darkling is my day, I now prepare to meet my God, And for forgiveness pray. Not for salvation is my plea,
A father’s pride I used to know, A mother’s love was mine; For swinish husks I let them go, And bedded with the swine. Since then I’ve come on evil days
I love to watch my seven cows In meads of buttercups abrowse, With guilded knees; But even more I love to see Them chew the cud so tranquilly
This is the law of the Yukon, and… “Send not your foolish and feeble;… Strong for the red rage of battle;… Send me men girt for the combat, m… Swift as the panther in triumph, f…
Throughout my life I see A guiding hand; The pitfalls set for me Were grimly planned. But always when and where
I had a bitter enemy, His heart to hate he gave, And when I died he swore that he Would dance upon my grave; That he would leap and laugh becau…
Oh you who have daring deeds to te… And you who have felt Ambition’s… Have you heard of the louse who lo… In the golden hair of a queen? He sighed all day and he sighed al…
Says Bauldy MacGreegor frae Gles… “That’s whit I hate maist aboot f… Noo jist hae a keek at yon ferm—ho… Weel, think o’ it, doon in the dun… A’ hell’s fairly belchin’ oot yonn…
Ah me! How hard is destiny! If we could only know. . . . I bought my son from Sicily A score of years ago; I haled him from our sunny vale
The lonely sunsets flare forlorn Down valleys dreadly desolate; The lordly mountains soar in scorn As still as death, as stern as fat… The lonely sunsets flame and die;
Strip Teaser My precious grand—child, aged two, Is eager to unlace one shoe, And then the other; Her cotton socks she’ll deftly dof…
Lolling on a bank of thyme Drunk with Spring I made this rhy… Though peoples perish in defeat, And races suffer to survive, The sunshine never was so sweet,
This is the pay—day up at the mine… There’s money to burn in the stree… With a haggard face and a ribband… And I know at the dawn she’ll com… One for herself, to drown her sham…