Dad's Favorite Ballads & Poems - Dave Horton (best book club books for discussion .txt) 📗

The lady that's known as Lou.

When out of the night, which was fifty below,

And into the din and the glare,

There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks,

Dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.

He looked like a man with a foot in the grave

And scarcely the strength of a louse,

Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar,

And he called for drinks for the house.

There was none could place the stranger's face,

Though we searched ourselves for a clue;

But we drank his health, and the last to drink

Was Dangerous Dan McGrew.

There's men that somehow just grip your eyes,

And hold them hard like a spell;

And such was he, and he looked to me

Like a man who had lived in hell;

With a face most hair, and the dreary stare

Of a dog whose day is done,

As he watered the green stuff in his glass,

And the drops fell one by one.

Then I got to figgering who he was,

And wondering what he'd do,

And I turned my head -- and there watching him

Was the lady that's known as Lou.

His eyes went rubbering round the room,

And he seemed in a kind of daze,

Till at last that old piano fell

In the way of his wandering gaze.

The rag-time kid was having a drink;

There was no one else on the stool,

So the stranger stumbles across the room,

And flops down there like a fool.

In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt

He sat, and I saw him sway;

Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands --

My God! but that man could play.

Were you ever out in the Great Alone,

When the moon was awful clear,

And the icy mountains hemmed you in

With a silence you most could HEAR;

With only the howl of a timber wolf,

And you camped there in the cold,

A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world,

Clean mad for the muck called gold;

While high overhead, green, yellow and red,

The North Lights swept in bars? --

Then you've a haunch what the music meant . . .

Hunger and night and the stars.

And hunger not of the belly kind,

That's banished with bacon and beans,

But the gnawing hunger of lonely men

For a home and all that it means;

For a fireside far from the cares that are,

Four walls and a roof above;

But oh! so cramful of cosy joy,

And crowned with a woman's love --

A woman dearer than all the world,

And true as Heaven is true --

(God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge, --

The lady that's known as Lou.)

Then on a sudden the music changed,

So soft that you scarce could hear;

But you felt that your life had been looted clean

Of all that it once held dear;

That someone had stolen the woman you loved;

That her love was a devil's lie;

That your guts were gone, and the best for you

Was to crawl away and die.

'Twas the crowning cry of a heart's despair,

And it thrilled you through and through --

"I guess I'll make it a spread misere,"

Said Dangerous Dan McGrew.

The music almost died away . . .

Then it burst like a pent-up flood;

And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay,"

And my eyes were blind with blood.

The thought came back of an ancient wrong,

And it stung like a frozen lash,

And the lust awoke to kill, to kill . . .

Then the music stopped with a crash,

And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned

In a most peculiar way;

In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt

He sat, and I saw him sway;

Then his lips went in in a kind of grin,

And he spoke, and his voice was calm,

And "Boys," says he, "you don't know me,

And none of you care a damn;

But I want to state, and my words are straight,

And I'll bet my poke they're true,

That one of you is a hound of hell . . .

and that one is Dan McGrew."

Then I ducked my head, and the lights went out,

And two guns blazed in the dark,

And a woman screamed, and the lights went up,

And two men lay stiff and stark.

Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead,

Was Dangerous Dan McGrew,

While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast

Of the lady that's known as Lou.

These are the simple facts of the case,

And I guess I ought to know.

They say that the stranger was crazed with "hooch",

And I'm not denying it's so.

I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys,

But strictly between us two --

The woman that kissed him and -- pinched his poke --

Was the lady that's known as Lou.

 

by Robert Service

 

 

The Walrus and the Carpenter

   - Carrol

 

The sun was shining on the sea,

Shining with all his might;

He did his very best to make

The billows smooth and bright

And this was odd, because it was

The middle of the night.

 

The moon was shining sulkily,

Because she thought the sun

Had got no business to be there

After the day was done

`It's very rude of him,'she said

`To come and spoil the fun!'

 

The sea was wet as wet could be,

The sands were dry as dry.

You could not see a cloud because

No cloud was in the sky:

No birds were flying overhead

There were no birds to fly.

 

The Walrus and the Carpenter

Were walking close at hand;

They wept like anything to see

Such quantities of sand:

`If this were only cleared away,'

They said, `It would be grand!'

 

`If seven maids with seven mops

Swept it for half a year,

Do you suppose,' the Walrus said,

`That they could get it clear?'

`I doubt it,' said the Carpenter,

And shed a bitter tear.

 

`O Oysters, come and walk with us!'

The Walrus did beseech.

`A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,

Along the briny beach:

We cannot do with more than four,

To give a hand to each.'

 

The eldest Oyster looked at him,

But never a word he said:

The eldest Oyster winked his eye,

And shook his heavy head

Meaning to say he did not choose

To leave the oyster-bed.

 

But four young Oysters hurried up,

All eager for the treat:

Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,

Their shoes were clean and neat

And this was odd, because, you know,

They hadn't any feet.

 

Four other Oysters followed them,

And yet another four;

And thick and fast they came at last,

And more, and more, and more

All hopping through the frothy waves,

And scrambling to the shore.

 

The Walrus and the Carpenter

Walked on a mile or so,

And then they rested on a rock

Conveniently low:

And all the little Oysters stood

And waited in a row.

 

`The time has come,' the Walrus said,

`To talk of may things:

Of shoes and ships and sealing-wax

Of cabbages and kings

And why the sea is boiling hot

And whether pigs have wings.'

 

`But wait a bit,' the Oysters cried,

`Before we have our chat;

For some of us are out of breath,

And all of us are fat!

`No hurry!' said the Carpenter.

They thanked him much for that.

 

`A loaf of bread,' the Walrus said,

`Is what we chiefly need:

Pepper and vinegar besides

Are very good indeed

Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,

We can begin to feed.'

 

`But not on us!' the Oysters cried,

Turning a little blue.

`After such kindness, that would be

A dismal thing to do!'

`The night is fine,' the Walrus said.

`Do you admire the view?

 

`It was so kind of you to come!

And you are very nice!'

The Carpenter said nothing, but

`Cut us another slice:

I wish you were not quite so deaf-

I've had to ask you twice!'

 

`It seems a shame,' the Walrus said,

`To play them such a trick

After we've brought them out so far,

And made them trot so quick!'

The Carpenter said nothing but

`The butter's spread too thick!'

 

`I weep for you,' the Walrus said:

`I deeply sympathize.'

With sobs and tears he sorted out

Those of the largest size

Holding his pocket-handkerchief

Before his streaming eyes.

 

`O Oysters,' said the Carpenter

`You've had a pleasant run!

Shall we be trotting home again?'

But answer came there none-

And this was scarcely odd, because

They'd eaten every one.

 

 

 

The Yarn of the "Nancy Bell" – by Gilbert

'TWAS on the shores that round our coast

From Deal to Ramsgate span,

That I found alone on a piece of stone

An elderly naval man.

 

His hair was weedy, his beard was long,

And weedy and long was he,

And I heard this wight on the shore recite,

In a singular minor key:

 

"Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold,

And the mate of the NANCY brig,

And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,

And the crew of the captain's gig."

 

And he shook his fists and he tore his hair,

Till I really felt afraid,

For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking,

And so I simply said:

 

"Oh, elderly man, it's little I know

Of the duties of men of the sea,

And I'll eat my hand if I understand

However you can be

 

"At once a cook, and a captain bold,

And the mate of the NANCY brig,

And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,

And the crew of the captain's gig."

 

Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which

Is a trick all seamen larn,

And having got rid of a thumping quid,

He spun this painful yarn:

 

'Twas in the good ship NANCY BELL

That we sailed to the Indian Sea,

And there on a reef we come to grief,

Which has often occurred to me.

 

"And pretty nigh all the crew was drowned

(There was seventy-seven o' soul),

And only ten of the NANCY'S men

Said 'Here!' to the muster-roll.

 

"There was me and the cook and the captain bold,

And the mate of the NANCY brig,

And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite,

And the crew of the captain's gig.

 

"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink,

Till a-hungry we did feel,

So we drawed a lot, and, accordin' shot

The captain for our meal.

 

"The next lot fell to the NANCY'S mate,

And a delicate dish he made;

Then our appetite with the midshipmite

We seven survivors stayed.

 

"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight,

And he much resembled pig;

Then we wittled free, did the cook and me,

On the crew of the captain's gig.

 

"Then only the cook and me was left,

And the delicate question, 'Which

Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose,

And we argued it out as sich.

 

"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did,

And the cook he worshipped me;

But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed

In the other chap's hold, you see.

 

'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says TOM;

'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be, -

'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I;

And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.

 

"Says he, 'Dear JAMES, to murder me

Were a foolish thing to do,

For don't you see that you can't cook ME,

While I can - and will - cook YOU!'

 

"So he boils the water, and takes the salt

And the pepper in portions true

(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot.

And some sage and parsley too.

 

'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride,

Which his smiling features tell,

''T will soothing be if I let you see

How extremely nice you'll smell.'

 

"And he stirred it