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Книга довольно хорошо написана в виде рассказов старого человека молодому парню, основанных на событиях его реальной жизни, охватывающей период с нача...
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A line-o'-verse or two
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The sun behind the cloud is shining.
“Into each life – ” You know the rest;
No need to finish out the string.
Longfellow boiled might be expressed,
“There’s always some dam thing.”
When things go wrong I do not read
The cheer-up poets, great or lesser.
To soothe my soul I do not need
The Neo-Thought of Mr. Dresser.
Sufficient for each working day,
With all the worries it may bring,
That helpful line by Doctor J.,
“There’s always some dam thing.”
THE MODERN MARINER
A dry sheet and a lazy sea,
And a wind so far from fast
It barely floats the owner’s flag
That flutters at the mast —
That flutters at the mast, my boys;
So while the sky is free
Of cloud we’ll take a yachtsman’s chance
And venture out to sea.
The aneroid has dropped a tenth!
Back, back across the bar
To a harbor snug, and a long cold drink,
And a big fat black cigar —
A big fat black cigar, my boys;
While, on an even keel,
The Swedish chef out-chefs himself
In getting up a meal.
Give me a soft and gentle wind,
A fleckless azure sky;
I care not for your “snoring breeze”
And dinners heaving high —
And dinners heaving high, my boys,
Make no great hit with me;
So when the breeze begins to snore
We’ll not put out to sea.
There’s laughter in yon beach hotel,
And summer girls a crowd;
And hark the music, mariners,
The band is piping loud!
The band is piping loud, my boys,
Bright eyes are flashing free.
Come, fly the owner’s-absent flag
And join the revelry.
A BALLADE OF THE CANNERY
What of the phrases, long decayed,
Of paleologic pedigree,
Musty, moldy, frazzled, and frayed —
A doddering, dusty company?
What shall be done with them? say we;
And east and west the people bawl,
Dump them into the Cannery! —
Into the brine go one and all.
“Grilled” and “lauded” and “scored” and “flayed,”
“Common or garden variety,”
“Wave of crime” and “reform crusade,”
“Along these lines” and “it seems to me,”
“Noted savant,” “I fail to see,”
The “groaning board” of the “banquet hall,” —
Masonjar ’em in “ghoulish glee” —
Into the brine go one and all.
“Succulent bivalves,” “trusty blade,”
“Last analysis,” “practical-ly,”
“Lone highwayman” and “fusillade,”
“Millionaire broker and clubman,” “gee!”
“In reply to yours,” “can such things be?”
“Sounded the keynote” or “trumpet call,” —
Can ’em, pickle ’em, one, two, three —
Into the brine go one and all.
L’Envoi
Under the spreading chestnut tree
Stands the Cannery, all too small.
The Canner a briny man is he,
And into the brine go one and all.
PANDEAN PIPEDREAMS
(Induced by smoking “Pagan Pickings.”)
I
This is something that I heard,
As the fluting of a bird,
On a certain drowsy day,
When my pipe was under way.
I was weary of the town,
“Into each life – ” You know the rest;
No need to finish out the string.
Longfellow boiled might be expressed,
“There’s always some dam thing.”
When things go wrong I do not read
The cheer-up poets, great or lesser.
To soothe my soul I do not need
The Neo-Thought of Mr. Dresser.
Sufficient for each working day,
With all the worries it may bring,
That helpful line by Doctor J.,
“There’s always some dam thing.”
THE MODERN MARINER
A dry sheet and a lazy sea,
And a wind so far from fast
It barely floats the owner’s flag
That flutters at the mast —
That flutters at the mast, my boys;
So while the sky is free
Of cloud we’ll take a yachtsman’s chance
And venture out to sea.
The aneroid has dropped a tenth!
Back, back across the bar
To a harbor snug, and a long cold drink,
And a big fat black cigar —
A big fat black cigar, my boys;
While, on an even keel,
The Swedish chef out-chefs himself
In getting up a meal.
Give me a soft and gentle wind,
A fleckless azure sky;
I care not for your “snoring breeze”
And dinners heaving high —
And dinners heaving high, my boys,
Make no great hit with me;
So when the breeze begins to snore
We’ll not put out to sea.
There’s laughter in yon beach hotel,
And summer girls a crowd;
And hark the music, mariners,
The band is piping loud!
The band is piping loud, my boys,
Bright eyes are flashing free.
Come, fly the owner’s-absent flag
And join the revelry.
A BALLADE OF THE CANNERY
What of the phrases, long decayed,
Of paleologic pedigree,
Musty, moldy, frazzled, and frayed —
A doddering, dusty company?
What shall be done with them? say we;
And east and west the people bawl,
Dump them into the Cannery! —
Into the brine go one and all.
“Grilled” and “lauded” and “scored” and “flayed,”
“Common or garden variety,”
“Wave of crime” and “reform crusade,”
“Along these lines” and “it seems to me,”
“Noted savant,” “I fail to see,”
The “groaning board” of the “banquet hall,” —
Masonjar ’em in “ghoulish glee” —
Into the brine go one and all.
“Succulent bivalves,” “trusty blade,”
“Last analysis,” “practical-ly,”
“Lone highwayman” and “fusillade,”
“Millionaire broker and clubman,” “gee!”
“In reply to yours,” “can such things be?”
“Sounded the keynote” or “trumpet call,” —
Can ’em, pickle ’em, one, two, three —
Into the brine go one and all.
L’Envoi
Under the spreading chestnut tree
Stands the Cannery, all too small.
The Canner a briny man is he,
And into the brine go one and all.
PANDEAN PIPEDREAMS
(Induced by smoking “Pagan Pickings.”)
I
This is something that I heard,
As the fluting of a bird,
On a certain drowsy day,
When my pipe was under way.
I was weary of the town,
Другие электронные книги автора Bert Taylor
Последний отзыв
Книга довольно хорошо написана в виде рассказов старого человека молодому парню, основанных на событиях его реальной жизни, охватывающей период с нача...
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