#English #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Old Codger Of garden truck he made his fare, As his bright eyes bore witness; Health was his habit and his care, His hobby human fitness.
Full fifty merry maids I heard One summer morn a—singing; And each was like a joyous bird With spring—clear not a—ringing. It was an old—time soldier song
I’d hate to be centipede (of legs… For if new trousers I should need… The bill would come to such a lot… Or else I’d have to turn a Scot a… I’m jolly glad I haven’t got a ne…
We couldn’t sit and study for the… The stagnation of a bank we couldn… For our riot blood was surging, an… To excitements and excesses that a… So we took to wine and drink and o…
On the tide you ride head high, Like a whale 'mid little fishes; I should envy you as I Help my wife to wash the dishes. Yet frock—coat and stove—pipe hat
Where are the dames I used to kno… In Dawson in the days of yore? Alas, it’s fifty years ago, And most, I guess, have “gone bef… The swinging scythe is swift to mo…
. . . So I walked among the willo… There was no moon at all, at all;… There was no light at all, at all;… And I called him as his mother ca… Oh I called him all the night—tim…
My garden robin in the Spring Was rapturous with glee, And followed me with wistful wing From pear to apple tree; His melodies the summer long
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…
With belly like a poisoned pup Said I: ‘I must give bacon up: And also, I profanely fear, I must abandon bread and beer That make for portliness they say;
’Twas up in a land long famed for… Tellus, the smith, had taken to wi… Tellus, the brawny worker in iron,… Saw her and loved her and bore her… Deeming her worthy to queen his ho…
The very skies wee black with sham… As near my moment drew; The very hour before you cam I felt I hated you. But now I see how fair you are,
Oh the wife she tried to tell me t… Of a wood—pecker a—rapping on the… And she thought that I was foolin… Of the mustering of legions, and ’… ‘Twas calling me to pull my freigh…
In idle dream with pipe in hand I looked across the Square, And saw the little chapel stand In eloquent despair. A ruin of the War it was,
My Pa and Ma their honeymoon Passed in an Andulasian June, And though produced in Drury Lane… I must have been conceived in Spa… Now having lapsed from fair estate…