English

As Dick and I
Were a-sailing by
At Fulham bridge, I cock'd my eye,
And says I, " Add-zooks!
There's Theodore Hook's,
Whose Sayings and Doings make such pretty books."

" I wonder," says I,
Still keeping my eye

I

As dainty a sight as ever I did see!
In a drifting boat with an hour to spare
On the coast of the land of the kilted knee
Under the sea-cliff's shadows, where
A flash of boys, slender and debonair
Laugh in a lovely disarray
Fear they know not nor never a care
The boys who bathe in Saint Andrew's Bay.

II

As Cupid in a garden strayed,
Transported with the damask shade,
A little bee unseen among
The silken weeds his finger stung.

2

As tears his beauteous cheeks ran down,
He stormed, he blowed the burning wound;
Then flying to a neighboring grove
Thus plaintive told the queen of love:

3

" Ah, ah, mama, ah me, I die!
A little insect, winged to fly —
It's called a bee, on yonder plain
It stung me. Oh! I die with pain. "

4

Then Venus mildly thus rejoined,

As children bring their broken toys,
With tears, for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God,
Because He was my Friend.

But then, instead of leaving Him
In peace, to work alone;
I hung around and tried to help
With ways that were my own.

At last I snatched them back and cried,
“How can You be so slow?”
“My child,” He said, “what could I do?
You never did let go!”

As a teenager I would drive Father's
Chevrolet cross-county, given me

reluctantly: “Always keep the tank
half full, boy, half full, ya hear?”

The fuel gauge dipping, dipping
toward Empty, hitting Empty, then

—thrilling!—'way below Empty,
myself driving cross-county

mile after mile, faster and faster,
all night long, this crazy kid driving

the earth's rolling surface,
against all laws, defying chemistry,

rules, and time, riding on nothing
but fumes, pushing luck harder

I

A S a naked man I go
— Through the desert sore afraid,
Holding up my head although
— I'm as frightened as a maid.

The couching lion there I saw
— From barren rocks lift up his eye;
He parts the cactus with his paw,
— He stares at me as I go by.

He would follow on my trace
— If he knew I was afraid,
If he knew my hardy face
— Hides the terrors of a maid.

In the night he rises and
— He stretches forth, he snuffs the air;
He roars and leaps along the sand,

Away! these arts no more shall hold me,
Hence with those insidious charms;
Those smiles are vain, then cease to fold me
In the twinings of thy arms.

And once more hop'st thou to detain me
By the blandishments and wiles?
Ah no! Deceit no more shall chain me,
Feigned sighs nor studied smiles.

Believ'st thou I will wear a fetter,
Forged by folly and by pride?
Fair Mischief! learn to know me better,
Be thy spells on others tried.

Yet once again could I believe thee,

As a friend to the children commend me the Yak.
You will find it exactly the thing:
It will carry and fetch, you can ride on its back,
Or lead it about with Astring.

The Tartar who dwells on the plains of Tibet
(A desolate region of snow)
Has for centuries made it a nursery pet,
And surely the Tartar should know!

Then tell your papa where the Yak can be got,
And if he is awfully rich

Artist, that underneath my table
Thy curious feature hast displayed,
Who, if we may believe the fable,
Wast once a lovely, blooming maid;

Insidious, restless, watchful spider,
Fear no officious damsel's broom;
Extend thine artful structure wider,
And spread thy banners round my room.

Wiped from the great man's costly ceiling,
Thou'rt welcome to my dusty roof;
There thou shall find a peaceful dwelling,
And undisturbed attend the woof,

Whilst I the wond'rous fabric stare at,

Arthur O'Bower has broken his bands,
And he's come roaring owre the lands;
The King o' Scots, and a' his power
Canna turn Arthur O'Bower.