Wish poems
/ page 80 of 92 /
The Execution of James Graham, Marquis of Montrose
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas in the year of 1650, and on the twenty-first of May,
The city of Edinburgh was put into a state of dismay
By the noise of drums and trumpets, which on the air arose,
That the great sound attracted the notice of Montrose.
The Kerrigan Boys
© Edward Harrington
By jove its hot on the track today, my flannel is soaked with sweat.
I think Ill sit in the shade a bit and wait for the sun to set.
I know of a decent camping place by the river beyond the town,
And Id rather carry my swag through there after the sun goes down.
The Black Watch Memorial
© William Topaz McGonagall
Ye Sons of Mars, it gives me great content
To think there has been erected a handsome monument
In memory of the Black Watch, which is magnificent to see,
Where they first were embodied at Aberfeldy.
The Battle of Shina, in Africa, Fought in 1800
© William Topaz McGonagall
King Shuac, the Giant of Mizra, war did declare
Against Ulva, King of Shina, telling him to prepare
And be ready for to meet him in the fight,
Which would commence the next morning before daylight.
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.
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.
A Tribute to Mr Murphy and the Blue Ribbon Army
© William Topaz McGonagall
All hail to Mr Murphy, he is a hero brave,
That has crossed the mighty Atlantic wave,
For what purpose let me pause and think-
I answer, to warn the people not to taste strong drink.
A Summary History of Lord Clive
© William Topaz McGonagall
About a hundred and fifty years ago,
History relates it happened so,
A big ship sailed from the shores of Britain
Bound for India across the raging main.
Silent Mark
© Cecilia Borromeo
another day is here and my hands are still covered
with a mantle of stoic ink
words scribbled on a hesitant paper
wishing to be read now not later.
Swan Song
© Gerald Stern
A bunch of old snakeheads down by the pond
carrying on the swan tradition -- hissing
inside their white bodies, raising and lowering their heads
like ostriches, regretting only the sad ritual
The Ballad Of Soulful Sam
© Robert William Service
You want me to tell you a story, a yarn of the firin' line,
Of our thin red kharki 'eroes, out there where the bullets whine;
Out there where the bombs are bustin',
and the cannons like 'ell-doors slam --
Just order another drink, boys, and I'll tell you of Soulful Sam.
The Sightless Man
© Robert William Service
Out of the night a crash,
A roar, a rampart of light;
A flame that leaped like a lash,
Searing forever my sight;
Out of the night a flash,
Then, oh, forever the Night!
Tipperary Days
© Robert William Service
Oh, weren't they the fine boys! You never saw the beat of them,
Singing all together with their throats bronze-bare;
Fighting-fit and mirth-mad, music in the feet of them,
Swinging on to glory and the wrath out there.
Careers
© Robert William Service
I knew three sisters,--all were sweet;
Wishful to wed was I,
And wondered which would mostly meet
The matrimonial tie.
Montreal Maree
© Robert William Service
You've heard of Belching Billy, likewise known as Windy Bill,
As punk a chunk of Yukon scum as ever robbed a sluice;
A satellite of Soapy Smith, a capper and a shill,
A slimy tribute-taker from the Ladies on the Loose.
Victory Stuff
© Robert William Service
What d'ye think, lad; what d'ye think,
As the roaring crowds go by?
As the banners flare and the brasses blare
And the great guns rend the sky?
Comrades
© Robert William Service
Oh bear with me, for I am old
And count on fingers five
The years this pencil I may hold
And hope to be alive;
The Little Old Log Cabin
© Robert William Service
When a man gits on his uppers in a hard-pan sort of town,
An' he ain't got nothin' comin' an' he can't afford ter eat,
An' he's in a fix for lodgin' an' he wanders up an' down,
An' you'd fancy he'd been boozin', he's so locoed 'bout the feet;
The Man From Eldorado
© Robert William Service
He's the man from Eldorado, and he's just arrived in town,
In moccasins and oily buckskin shirt.
He's gaunt as any Indian, and pretty nigh as brown;
He's greasy, and he smells of sweat and dirt.
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.
