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Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The Irish Colonel

Said the king to the colonel,
‘The complaints are eternal,
That you Irish give more trouble
Than any other corps.’
 
Said the colonel to the king,
‘This complaint is no new thing,
For your foemen, sire,
have made it A hundred times before.’

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H.M.S. Foudroyant

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The Old Huntsman

THERE’S a keen and grim old hun… On a horse as white as snow; Sometimes he is very swift And sometimes he is slow. But he never is at fault,
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Master went a-hunting, When the leaves were falling; We saw him on the bridle path, We heard him gaily calling. ‘Oh master, master, come you back,
The Song of the Bow

What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew-wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free
The Passing

IT was the hour of dawn, When the heart beats thin and smal… The window glimmered grey, Framed in a shadow wall. And in the cold sad light
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A Parable

THE cheese-mites asked how the ch… And warmly debated the matter; The Orthodox said that it came fr… And the Heretics said from the pl… They argued it long and they argue…
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Religio Medici

God’s own best will bide the test And God’s own worst will fall; But, best or worst or last or firs… He ordereth it all. For all is good, if understood,
A Tragedy

WHO’S that walking on the moorla… Who’s that moving on the hill? They are passing 'mid the bracken, But the shadows grow and blacken And I cannot see them clearly on…
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It’s up and away from our work to-… For the breeze sweeps over the dow… And it’s hey for a game where the… And the bracken is bronzing to bro… With the turf ’neath our tread and…
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A SPORTIN’ death! My word it w… An’ taken in a sportin’ way. Mind you, I wasn’t there to see; I only tell you what they say. They found that day at Shillingle…
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MASTER went a-hunting, When the leaves were falling; We saw him on the bridle path, We heard him gaily calling. ‘Oh master, master, come you back,



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