Car poems
/ page 658 of 738 /
A Hero
© Robert William Service
Three times I had the lust to kill,
To clutch a throat so young and fair,
And squeeze with all my might until
No breath of being lingered there.
My Holiday
© Robert William Service
I love the cheery bustle
Of children round the house,
The tidy maids a-hustle,
The chatter of my spouse;
A Mediocre Man
© Robert William Service
I'm just a mediocre man
Of no high-brow pretence;
A comfortable life I plan
With care and commonsense.
Noctambule
© Robert William Service
Pair of dapper chaps,
Cigarettes and sashes,
Stare at me, perhaps
Desperate Apachès.
Mistinguette
© Robert William Service
He was my one and only love;
My world was mirror for his face.
We were as close as hand and glove,
Until he came with smiling grace
Learn To Like
© Robert William Service
School yourself to savour most
Joys that have but little cost;
Prove the best of life is free,
Sun and stars and sky and sea;
The Revelation
© Robert William Service
The same old sprint in the morning, boys, to the same old din and smut;
Chained all day to the same old desk, down in the same old rut;
Posting the same old greasy books, catching the same old train:
Oh, how will I manage to stick it all, if I ever get back again?
An Epicure
© Robert William Service
Should you preserve white mice in honey
Don't use imported ones from China,
For though they cost you less in money
You'll find the Japanese ones finer.
The Release
© Robert William Service
To-day within a grog-shop near
I saw a newly captured linnet,
Who beat against his cage in fear,
And fell exhausted every minute;
L'Envoi
© Robert William Service
Ever in the ebb and flow
Of my dreams that come and go,
Reader, I have you in mind,
Humbly hoping you will find
In my verse a gleam that's true
To the dreams that live in you.
The Boola-Boola Maid
© Robert William Service
In the wilds of Madagascar, Dwelt a Boola-boola maid;
For her hand young men would ask her, But she always was afraid.
Oh that Boola-boola maid She was living in the shade Of a spreading Yum-yum tree;
And - when the day was done At the setting of the sun, She would make this melodee:
The Wee Shop
© Robert William Service
She risked her all, they told me, bravely sinking
The pinched economies of thirty years;
And there the little shop was, meek and shrinking,
The sum of all her dreams and hopes and fears.
On The Boulevard
© Robert William Service
Oh, it's pleasant sitting here,
Seeing all the people pass;
You beside your bock of beer,
I behind my demi-tasse.
Weary
© Robert William Service
Some praise the Lord for Light,
The living spark;
I thank God for the Night
The healing dark.
Bill The Bomber
© Robert William Service
The poppies gleamed like bloody pools through cotton-woolly mist;
The Captain kept a-lookin' at the watch upon his wrist;
And there we smoked and squatted, as we watched the shrapnel flame;
'Twas wonnerful, I'm tellin' you, how fast them bullets came.
Bank Robber
© Robert William Service
I much admire, I must admit,
The man who robs a Bank;
It takes a lot of guts and grit,
For lack of which I thank
The gods: a chap 'twould make of me
You wouldn't ask to tea.
Prayer
© Robert William Service
You talk o' prayer an' such -
Well, I jest don't know how;
I guess I got as much
Religion as a cow.
The Ballad Of Lenin's Tomb
© Robert William Service
This is the yarn he told me
As we sat in Casey's Bar,
That Rooshun mug who scammed from the jug
In the Land of the Crimson Star;
That Soviet guy with the single eye,
And the face like a flaming scar.
Fore-Warning
© Robert William Service
I'd rather be the Jester than the Minstrel of the King;
I'd rather jangle cap and bells than twang the stately harp;
I'd rather make his royal ribs with belly-laughter ring,
Than see him sitting in the suds and sulky as a carp.
The Answer
© Robert William Service
Bill has left his house of clay,
Slammed the door and gone away:
How he laughed but yesterday!
