Money poems
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Willie's and Nellie's Wish
© Julia A Moore
Willie and Nellie, one evening sat
By their own little cottage door;
The Christmas Gift For Mother
© Edgar Albert Guest
In the Christmas times of the long ago,
There was one event we used to know
That was better than any other;
It wasn't the toys that we hoped to get,
But the talks we had--and I hear them yet--
Of the gift we'd buy for Mother.
The Sprig of Moss
© William Topaz McGonagall
There lived in Munich a poor, weakly youth,
But for the exact date, I cannot vouch for the truth,
And of seven of a family he was the elder,
Who was named, by his parents, Alois Senefelder.
The Men Who Come Behind
© Henry Lawson
So it is, and so it might have been, my friend, with me and you
When a friend of both and neither interferes between the two;
They will fight like fiends, forgetting in their passion mad and blind,
That the row is mostly started by the folk who come behind.
A Modern Courtship
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Why turn from me thus with such petulant pride,
When I ask thee, sweet Edith, to be my bride;
When I offer the gift of heart fond and true,
And with loyalty seek thy young love to woo?
With patience Ive waited from week unto week,
And at length I must openly, candidly speak.
The Inauguration of the University College
© William Topaz McGonagall
Good people of Dundee, your voices raise,
And to Miss Baxter give great praise;
Rejoice and sing and dance with glee,
Because she has founded a College in Bonnie Dundee.
The Bonnie Lass o' Ruily
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas in the village of Ruily there lived a bonnie lass
With red, pouting lips which few lasses could surpass,
And her eyes were as azure the blue sky,
Which caused Donald McNeill to heave many a love sigh
Little Pierre's Song
© William Topaz McGonagall
In a humble room in London sat a pretty little boy,
By the bedside of his sick mother her only joy,
Who was called Little Pierre, and who's father was dead;
There he sat poor boy, hungry and crying for bread.
John Rouat the Fisherman
© William Topaz McGonagall
Margaret Simpson was the daughter of humble parents in the county of Ayr,
With a comely figure, and face of beauty rare,
And just in the full bloom of her womanhood,
Was united to John Rouat, a fisherman good.
Jack Honest, or the Widow and Her Son
© William Topaz McGonagall
Jack Honest was only eight years of age when his father died,
And by the death of his father, Mrs Honest was sorely tried;
And Jack was his father's only joy and pride,
And for honesty Jack couldn't be equalled in the country-side.
Hanchen, the Maid of the Mill
© William Topaz McGonagall
Near the village of Udorf, on the banks of the Rhine,
There lived a miller and his family, once on a time;
And there yet stands the mill in a state of decay,
And concerning the miller and his family, attend to my lay.
Attempted Assassination of the Queen
© William Topaz McGonagall
God prosper long our noble Queen,
And long may she reign!
Maclean he tried to shoot her,
But it was all in vain.
An Autumn Reverie
© William Topaz McGonagall
Alas! Beautiful Summer now hath fled,
And the face of Nature doth seem dead,
And the leaves are withered, and falling off the trees,
By the nipping and chilling autumnal breeze.
A Tale of Christmas Eve
© William Topaz McGonagall
And the twilight was giving place to the shadows of approaching night,
And those who possessed a home were seeking its warmth and light;
And the market square was dark and he began to moan,
When he thought of his hungry brother and sisters at home.
Another Awkward Stage Of Convalescence
© Bob Hicok
Drunk, I kissed the moon
where it stretched on the floor.
I'd removed happiness from a green bottle,
both sipped and gulped
just as a river changes its mind,
mostly there was a flood in my mouth
Roulette
© Robert William Service
I'll wait until my money's gone
Before I take the sleeping pills;
Then when they find me in the dawn,
Remote from earthly ails and ills
They'll say: "She's broke, the foreign bitch!"
And dump me in the common ditch.
The Low-Down White
© Robert William Service
This is the pay-day up at the mines, when the bearded brutes come down;
There's money to burn in the streets to-night, so I've sent my klooch to town,
With a haggard face and a ribband of red entwined in her hair of brown.
The Parson's Son
© Robert William Service
This is the song of the parson's son, as he squats in his shack alone,
On the wild, weird nights, when the Northern Lights shoot up from the frozen zone,
And it's sixty below, and couched in the snow the hungry huskies moan:
Winnie
© Robert William Service
Though it took all my bonus money.
And she'll be in the meadow there,
As long as I have dough for spending . . .
Gee! I'll take care of that old mare -
"Sweetheart! you'll have a happy ending."
Over The Parapet
© Robert William Service
All day long when the shells sail over
I stand at the sandbags and take my chance;
But at night, at night I'm a reckless rover,
And over the parapet gleams Romance.
