Part 102 (1/2)

She took the porcelain in her hand (O weary mother, drive the cows to roost); She poured; I drank at her command; Drank deep, and now--you understand!

(O weary mother, drive the cows to roost.)

9--(_Burns, who liked it adulterated_)

Weel, gin ye speir, I'm no inclined, Whusky or tay--to state my mind, Fore ane or ither; For, gin I tak the first, I'm fou, And gin the next, I'm dull as you, Mix a' thegither.

10--(_Walt Whitman, who didn't stay more than a minute_)

One cup for myself-hood, Many for you. Allons, camerados, we will drink together, O hand-in-hand! That tea-spoon, please, when you've done with it.

What b.u.t.ter-colour'd hair you've got. I don't want to be personal.

All right, then, you needn't. You're a stale-cadaver.

Eighteen-pence if the bottles are returned.

Allons, from all bat-eyed formula.

_Barry Pain._

HOW OFTEN

They stood on the bridge at midnight, In a park not far from the town; They stood on the bridge at midnight, Because they didn't sit down.

The moon rose o'er the city, Behind the dark church spire; The moon rose o'er the city And kept on rising higher.

How often, oh, how often!

They whispered words so soft; How often, oh, how often; How often, oh, how oft!

_Ben King._

IF I SHOULD DIE TO-NIGHT

If I should die to-night And you should come to my cold corpse and say, Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay-- If I should die to-night, And you should come in deepest grief and woe-- And say: ”Here's that ten dollars that I owe,”

I might arise in my large white cravat And say, ”What's that?”

If I should die to-night And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel, Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel, I say, if I should die to-night And you should come to me, and there and then Just even hint 'bout paying me that ten, I might arise the while, But I'd drop dead again.

_Ben King._

”THE DAY IS DONE”

The day is done, and darkness From the wing of night is loosed, As a feather is wafted downward, From a chicken going to roost.