#1912 #AmericanWriters #RhymesOfARollingStone
I’d hate to be centipede (of legs… For if new trousers I should need… The bill would come to such a lot… Or else I’d have to turn a Scot a… I’m jolly glad I haven’t got a ne…
The Cow—Juice Cure The clover was in blossom, an’ the… When Flap—jack Billy hit the town… The frost was on the fodder an’ th… When Billy got to seein’ snakes i…
There will be a singing in your he… There will be a rapture in your ey… You will be a woman set apart, You will be so wonderful and wise. You will sleep, and when from drea…
When I was boxing in the ring In 'Frisco back in ninety—seven, I used to make five bucks a fling To give as good as I was given. But when I felt too fighting gay,
“Carry your suitcase, Sir?” he sa… I turned away to hide a grin, For he was shorter by a head Than I and pitiably thin. I could have made a pair of him,
The same old sprint in the morning… Chained all day to the same old de… Posting the same old greasy books,… Oh, how will I manage to stick it… We’ve bidden good—bye to life in a…
She’d bring to me a skein of wool And beg me to hold out my hands; so on my pipe I cease to pull And watch her twine the shining st… Into a ball so snug and neat,
Ruins in Rome are four a penny, And here along the Appian Way I see the monuments of many Esteemed almighty in their day. .… Or so he makes me understand —
Was It You? “Hullo, young Jones! with your ti… And your pen behind your ear; Will you mark my cheque in the usu… For I’m overdrawn, I fear.”
Say! You’ve struck a heap of trou… Bust in business, lost your wife; No one cares a cent about you, You don’t care a cent for life; Hard luck has of hope bereft you,
She I’m waiting for the man I hope to… I’ve never seen him —that’s the fu… I promised I would wear a rose of… Pinned on my coat above my flutter…
When I am dead I will not care How future generations fare, For I will be so unaware. Though fields their slain has carp… And seas be salt with tears they s…
He asked the lady in the train If he might smoke: she smiled cons… So lighting his cigar and fain To talk he puffed away content, Reflecting: how delightful are
I looked down on a daisied lawn To where a host of tiny eyes Of snow and gold from velvet shone And made me think of starry skies. I looked up to the vasty night
I’m part of people I have known And they are part of me; The seeds of thought that I have… In other minds I see. There’s something of me in the thr…