Jerry MacMullen, the millionaire, Driving a red—meat bus out there — How did he win his Croix de Guerr… Bless you, that’s all old stuff: Beast of a night on the Verdun ro…
They say that rhyme and rhythm are Outmoded now. I do not know, for I am far From high of brow. But if the twain you take away,
I drink my fill of foamy ale I sing a song, I tell a tale, I play the fiddle; My throat is chronically dry, Yet savant of a sort am I,
To tribulations of mankind Dame Nature is indifferent; To human sorrow she is blind, And deaf to human discontent. Mid fear and fratricidal fray,
So often in the mid of night I wake me in my bed With utter panic of affright To find my feet are dead; And pace the floor to easy my pain
Her smile ineffably is sweet, Devinely she is slim; Yet oh how weary are her feet, How aches her every limb! Thank God it’s near to closing ti…
There are strange things done in t… By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secr… That would make your blood run col… The Northern Lights have seen que…
Old Man Death’s a lousy heel who… Let Graveyard yawn and doom down… But when the sky with rapture ring… Then Old Man Death grins evilly,… Jack Duval was my chosen pal in t…
Grand—daughter of the Painted Nai… As if they had been dipped in gore… I’d like to set you lugging pails And make you scrub the kitchen flo… I’m old and crotchety of course,
I watched one day a parrot grey —'… “Cuckold!” he cried, until I sigh… Then balefully he looked at me, an… With sneering eye that seemed to p… So fierce, so bold, so grim, so co…
When day is done I steal away To fold my hands in rest, And of my hours this moment grey I love the best; So quietly I sit alone
When from my fumbling hand the tir… And in the twilight weary droops m… While to my quiet heart a still vo… Calls me to join my kindred of the… Grant that I may, O Lord, ere re…
No man can be a failure if he thin… he may not own his roof—tree overh… He may be on his uppers and have h… (Financially speaking —in the red) He may have chronic shortage to re…
O’er the dark pines she sees the s… And in the west, all tremulous, a… And soothing sweet she hears the m… Of cow—bells jangled in the fields… Quite listless, for her daily sten…
My destiny it is tonight To sit with pensive brow Beside my study fire and write This verse I’m making now. This Period, this tiny dot