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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35115-8.txt b/35115-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b4499d --- /dev/null +++ b/35115-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1207 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Wine, Water, and Song, by Gilbert Keith Chesterton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wine, Water, and Song + +Author: Gilbert Keith Chesterton + +Release Date: January 29, 2011 [EBook #35115] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINE, WATER, AND SONG *** + + + + +Produced by Jana Srna, Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + [ Transcriber's Notes: + + Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as + possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation; + no changes have been made to the original text. + + Italic text has been marked with _underscores_. + Bold italic text has been marked with =equals signs=. + ] + + + + +WINE, WATER, AND SONG + + + + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + + CHARLES DICKENS + THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE + THE FLYING INN + ALL THINGS CONSIDERED + TREMENDOUS TRIFLES + ALARMS AND DISCURSIONS + A MISCELLANY OF MEN + + + + + WINE, WATER + AND SONG + + BY + G. K. CHESTERTON + + + THIRD EDITION + + + METHUEN & CO. LTD. + 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + LONDON + + + + + First Published August 6th 1915 + Second Edition August 10th 1915 + Third Edition August 23rd 1915 + + + + +NOTE + + +The Songs in this book are taken from "THE FLYING INN," with the +exception of "The Good Rich Man" and "The Song of the Strange Ascetic," +which are here included by kind permission of the editor of =The New +Witness=, where they originally appeared. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + Page + + The Englishman 9 + + Wine and Water 11 + + The Song against Grocers 15 + + The Rolling English Road 20 + + The Song of Quoodle 24 + + Pioneers, O Pioneers 27 + + The Logical Vegetarian 31 + + "The Saracen's Head" 34 + + The Good Rich Man 37 + + The Song against Songs 42 + + Me Heart 45 + + The Song of the Oak 49 + + The Road to Roundabout 53 + + The Song of the Strange Ascetic 57 + + The Song of Right and Wrong 60 + + Who Goes Home? 63 + + + + +WINE, WATER, AND SONG + + + + +The Englishman + + + St. George he was for England, + And before he killed the dragon + He drank a pint of English ale + Out of an English flagon. + For though he fast right readily + In hair-shirt or in mail, + It isn't safe to give him cakes + Unless you give him ale. + + St. George he was for England, + And right gallantly set free + The lady left for dragon's meat + And tied up to a tree; + But since he stood for England + And knew what England means, + Unless you give him bacon + You mustn't give him beans. + + St. George he is for England, + And shall wear the shield he wore + When we go out in armour + With the battle-cross before. + But though he is jolly company + And very pleased to dine, + It isn't safe to give him nuts + Unless you give him wine. + + + + +Wine and Water + + + Old Noah he had an ostrich farm and fowls on the largest scale, + He ate his egg with a ladle in an egg-cup big as a pail, + And the soup he took was Elephant Soup and the fish he took was Whale, + But they all were small to the cellar he took when he set out to sail, + And Noah he often said to his wife when he sat down to dine, + "I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine." + + The cataract of the cliff of heaven fell blinding off the brink + As if it would wash the stars away as suds go down a sink, + The seven heavens came roaring down for the throats of hell to drink, + And Noah he cocked his eye and said, "It looks like rain, I think, + The water has drowned the Matterhorn as deep as a Mendip mine, + But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine." + + But Noah he sinned, and we have sinned; on tipsy feet we trod, + Till a great big black teetotaller was sent to us for a rod, + And you can't get wine at a P.S.A., or chapel, or Eisteddfod, + For the Curse of Water has come again because of the wrath of God, + And water is on the Bishop's board and the Higher Thinker's shrine, + But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine. + + + + +The Song Against Grocers + + + God made the wicked Grocer + For a mystery and a sign, + That men might shun the awful shops + And go to inns to dine; + Where the bacon's on the rafter + And the wine is in the wood, + And God that made good laughter + Has seen that they are good. + + The evil-hearted Grocer + Would call his mother "Ma'am," + And bow at her and bob at her, + Her aged soul to damn, + And rub his horrid hands and ask + What article was next, + Though =mortis in articulo= + Should be her proper text. + + His props are not his children, + But pert lads underpaid, + Who call out "Cash!" and bang about + To work his wicked trade; + He keeps a lady in a cage + Most cruelly all day, + And makes her count and calls her "Miss" + Until she fades away. + + The righteous minds of innkeepers + Induce them now and then + To crack a bottle with a friend + Or treat unmoneyed men, + But who hath seen the Grocer + Treat housemaids to his teas + Or crack a bottle of fish-sauce + Or stand a man a cheese? + + He sells us sands of Araby + As sugar for cash down; + He sweeps his shop and sells the dust + The purest salt in town, + He crams with cans of poisoned meat + Poor subjects of the King, + And when they die by thousands + Why, he laughs like anything. + + The wicked Grocer groces + In spirits and in wine, + Not frankly and in fellowship + As men in inns do dine; + But packed with soap and sardines + And carried off by grooms, + For to be snatched by Duchesses + And drunk in dressing-rooms. + + The hell-instructed Grocer + Has a temple made of tin, + And the ruin of good innkeepers + Is loudly urged therein; + But now the sands are running out + From sugar of a sort, + The Grocer trembles; for his time, + Just like his weight, is short. + + + + +The Rolling English Road + + + Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode, + The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road. + A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire, + And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire; + A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread + The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head. + + I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire, + And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire; + But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed + To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made, + Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands, + The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands. + + His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run + Behind him; and the hedges all strengthing in the sun? + The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which, + But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch. + God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear + The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier. + + My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage, + Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age, + But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth, + And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death; + For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen, + Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green. + + + + +The Song of Quoodle + + + They haven't got no noses, + The fallen sons of Eve; + Even the smell of roses + Is not what they supposes; + But more than mind discloses + And more than men believe. + + They haven't got no noses, + They cannot even tell + When door and darkness closes + The park a Jew encloses, + Where even the Law of Moses + Will let you steal a smell. + + The brilliant smell of water, + The brave smell of a stone, + The smell of dew and thunder, + The old bones buried under, + Are things in which they blunder + And err, if left alone. + + The wind from winter forests, + The scent of scentless flowers, + The breath of brides' adorning, + The smell of snare and warning, + The smell of Sunday morning, + God gave to us for ours. + + . . . . . + + And Quoodle here discloses + All things that Quoodle can, + They haven't got no noses, + They haven't got no noses, + And goodness only knowses + The Noselessness of Man. + + + + +Pioneers, O Pioneers + + + Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews + Suffered from new and original views, + He crawled on his hands and knees, it's said, + With grass in his mouth and a crown on his head. + With a wowtyiddly, etc. + + Those in traditional paths that trod + Thought the thing was a curse from God, + But a Pioneer men always abuse + Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews. + + Black Lord Foulon the Frenchman slew + Thought it a Futurist thing to do. + He offered them grass instead of bread. + So they stuffed him with grass when they cut off his head. + With a wowtyiddly, etc. + + For the pride of his soul he perished then-- + But of course it is always of Pride that men, + A Man in Advance of his Age accuse, + Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews. + + Simeon Scudder of Styx, in Maine, + Thought of the thing and was at it again. + He gave good grass and water in pails + To a thousand Irishmen hammering rails. + With a wowtyiddly, etc. + + Appetites differ; and tied to a stake + He was tarred and feathered for Conscience' Sake. + But stoning the prophets is ancient news, + Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews. + + + + +The Logical Vegetarian + + +"Why shouldn't I have a purely vegetarian drink? Why shouldn't I take +vegetables in their highest form, so to speak? The modest vegetarians +ought obviously to stick to wine or beer, plain vegetarian drinks, +instead of filling their goblets with the blood of bulls and elephants, +as all conventional meat-eaters do, I suppose."--Dalroy. + + You will find me drinking rum, + Like a sailor in a slum, + You will find me drinking beer like a Bavarian. + You will find me drinking gin + In the lowest kind of inn, + Because I am a rigid Vegetarian. + + So I cleared the inn of wine, + And I tried to climb the sign, + And I tried to hail the constable as "Marion." + But he said I couldn't speak, + And he bowled me to the Beak + Because I was a Happy Vegetarian. + + Oh, I knew a Doctor Gluck, + And his nose it had a hook, + And his attitudes were anything but Aryan; + So I gave him all the pork + That I had, upon a fork; + Because I am myself a Vegetarian. + + I am silent in the Club, + I am silent in the pub., + I am silent on a bally peak in Darien; + For I stuff away for life + Shoving peas in with a knife, + Because I am at heart a Vegetarian. + + No more the milk of cows + Shall pollute my private house + Than the milk of the wild mares of the Barbarian; + I will stick to port and sherry, + For they are so very, very, + So very, very, very Vegetarian. + + + + +"The Saracen's Head" + + + "The Saracen's Head" looks down the lane, + Where we shall never drink wine again, + For the wicked old women who feel well-bred + Have turned to a tea-shop "The Saracen's Head." + + "The Saracen's Head" out of Araby came, + King Richard riding in arms like flame, + And where he established his folk to be fed + He set up a spear--and the Saracen's Head. + + But "The Saracen's Head" outlived the Kings, + It thought and it thought of most horrible things, + Of Health and of Soap and of Standard Bread, + And of Saracen drinks at "The Saracen's Head." + + So "The Saracen's Head" fulfils its name, + They drink no wine--a ridiculous game-- + And I shall wonder until I'm dead, + How it ever came into the Saracen's Head. + + + + +The Good Rich Man + + + Mr. Mandragon, the Millionaire, he wouldn't have wine or wife, + He couldn't endure complexity: he lived the Simple Life. + He ordered his lunch by megaphone in manly, simple tones, + And used all his motors for canvassing voters, and twenty telephones; + Besides a dandy little machine, + Cunning and neat as ever was seen, + With a hundred pulleys and cranks between, + Made of metal and kept quite clean, + To hoist him out of his healthful bed on every day of his life, + And wash him and dress him and shave him and brush him + --to live the Simple Life. + + Mr. Mandragon was most refined and quietly, neatly dressed, + Say all the American newspapers that know refinement best; + Quiet and neat the hat and hair and the coat quiet and neat, + A trouser worn upon either leg, while boots adorn the feet; + And not, as any one would expect, + A Tiger's Skin all striped and specked, + And a Peacock Hat with the tail erect, + A scarlet tunic with sunflowers decked, + Which might have had a more marked effect, + And pleased the pride of a weaker man that yearned for wine or wife; + But Fame and the Flagon, for Mr. Mandragon + --obscured the Simple Life. + + Mr. Mandragon, the Millionaire, I am happy to say, is dead; + He enjoyed a quiet funeral in a Crematorium shed. + And he lies there fluffy and soft and grey and certainly quite refined; + When he might have rotted to flowers and fruit with Adam and all mankind, + Or been eaten by wolves athirst for blood, + Or burnt on a good tall pyre of wood, + In a towering flame, as a heathen should, + Or even sat with us here at food, + Merrily taking twopenny ale and pork with a pocket-knife; + But this was luxury not for one that went for the Simple Life. + + + + +The Song Against Songs + + + The song of the sorrow of Melisande is a weary song and a dreary song, + The glory of Mariana's grange had got into great decay, + The song of the Raven Never More has never been called a cheery song, + And the brightest things in Baudelaire are anything else but gay. + + But who will write us a riding song, + Or a hunting song or a drinking song, + Fit for them that arose and rode + When day and the wine were red? + But bring me a quart of claret out, + And I will write you a clinking song, + A song of war and a song of wine + And a song to wake the dead. + + The song of the fury of Fragolette is a florid song and a torrid song, + The song of the sorrow of Tara is sung to a harp unstrung, + The song of the cheerful Shropshire Lad I consider a perfectly horrid song, + And the song of the happy Futurist is a song that can't be sung. + + But who will write us a riding song + Or a fighting song or a drinking song, + Fit for the fathers of you and me, + That knew how to think and thrive? + But the song of Beauty and Art and Love + Is simply an utterly stinking song, + To double you up and drag you down + And damn your soul alive. + + + + +Me Heart + + + I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, + And any sword or pistol boy can hit it with me leave, + It shines there for an epaulette, as golden as a flame, + As naked as me ancestors, as noble as me name. + For I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, + But a lady stole it from me on St. Gallowglass's Eve. + + The folk that live in Liverpool, their heart is in their boots; + They go to hell like lambs, they do, because the hooter hoots. + Where men may not be dancin', though the wheels may dance all day; + And men may not be smokin'; but only chimneys may. + But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, + But a lady stole it from me on St. Poleander's Eve. + + The folk that live in black Belfast, their heart is in their mouth, + They see us making murders in the meadows of the South; + They think a plough's a rack, they do, and cattle-calls are creeds, + And they think we're burnin' witches when we're only burnin' weeds; + But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve; + But a lady stole it from me on St. Barnabas's Eve. + + + + +The Song of the Oak + + + The Druids waved their golden knives + And danced around the Oak + When they had sacrificed a man; + But though the learned search and scan, + No single modern person can + Entirely see the joke. + But though they cut the throats of men + They cut not down the tree, + And from the blood the saplings sprang + Of oak-woods yet to be. + But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood, + He rots the tree as ivy would, + He clings and crawls as ivy would + About the sacred tree. + + King Charles he fled from Worcester fight + And hid him in an Oak; + In convent schools no man of tact + Would trace and praise his every act, + Or argue that he was in fact + A strict and sainted bloke, + But not by him the sacred woods + Have lost their fancies free, + And though he was extremely big + He did not break the tree. + But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood, + He breaks the tree as ivy would, + And eats the woods as ivy would + Between us and the sea. + + Great Collingwood walked down the glade + And flung the acorns free, + That oaks might still be in the grove + As oaken as the beams above, + When the great Lover sailors love + Was kissed by Death at sea. + But though for him the oak-trees fell + To build the oaken ships, + The woodman worshipped what he smote + And honoured even the chips. + But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood, + He hates the tree as ivy would, + As the dragon of the ivy would + That has us in his grips. + + + + +The Road to Roundabout + + + Some say that Guy of Warwick, + The man that killed the Cow + And brake the mighty Boar alive + Beyond the Bridge at Slough; + Went up against a Loathly Worm + That wasted all the Downs, + And so the roads they twist and squirm + (If I may be allowed the term) + From the writhing of the stricken Worm + That died in seven towns. + I see no scientific proof + That this idea is sound, + And I should say they wound about + To find the town of Roundabout, + The merry town of Roundabout, + That makes the world go round. + + Some say that Robin Goodfellow, + Whose lantern lights the meads + (To steal a phrase Sir Walter Scott + In heaven no longer needs), + Such dance around the trysting-place + The moonstruck lover leads; + Which superstition I should scout + There is more faith in honest doubt + (As Tennyson has pointed out) + Than in those nasty creeds. + But peace and righteousness (St. John) + In Roundabout can kiss, + And since that's all that's found about + The pleasant town of Roundabout, + The roads they simply bound about + To find out where it is. + + Some say that when Sir Lancelot + Went forth to find the Grail, + Grey Merlin wrinkled up the roads + For hope that he should fail; + All roads led back to Lyonesse + And Camelot in the Vale, + I cannot yield assent to this + Extravagant hypothesis, + The plain, shrewd Briton will dismiss + Such rumours (=Daily Mail=). + But in the streets of Roundabout + Are no such factions found, + Or theories to expound about, + Or roll upon the ground about, + In the happy town of Roundabout, + That makes the world go round. + + + + +The Song of the Strange Ascetic + + + If I had been a Heathen, + I'd have praised the purple vine, + My slaves should dig the vineyards, + And I would drink the wine; + But Higgins is a Heathen, + And his slaves grow lean and grey, + That he may drink some tepid milk + Exactly twice a day. + + If I had been a Heathen, + I'd have crowned Neoera's curls, + And filled my life with love affairs, + My house with dancing girls; + But Higgins is a Heathen, + And to lecture rooms is forced, + Where his aunts, who are not married, + Demand to be divorced. + + If I had been a Heathen, + I'd have sent my armies forth, + And dragged behind my chariots + The Chieftains of the North. + But Higgins is a Heathen, + And he drives the dreary quill, + To lend the poor that funny cash + That makes them poorer still. + + If I had been a Heathen, + I'd have piled my pyre on high, + And in a great red whirlwind + Gone roaring to the sky; + But Higgins is a Heathen, + And a richer man than I; + And they put him in an oven, + Just as if he were a pie. + + Now who that runs can read it, + The riddle that I write, + Of why this poor old sinner, + Should sin without delight--? + But I, I cannot read it + (Although I run and run), + Of them that do not have the faith, + And will not have the fun. + + + + +The Song of Right and Wrong + + + Feast on wine or fast on water, + And your honour shall stand sure, + God Almighty's son and daughter + He the valiant, she the pure; + If an angel out of heaven + Brings you other things to drink, + Thank him for his kind attentions, + Go and pour them down the sink. + + Tea is like the East he grows in, + A great yellow Mandarin + With urbanity of manner + And unconsciousness of sin; + All the women, like a harem, + At his pig-tail troop along; + And, like all the East he grows in, + He is Poison when he's strong. + + Tea, although an Oriental, + Is a gentleman at least; + Cocoa is a cad and coward, + Cocoa is a vulgar beast, + Cocoa is a dull, disloyal, + Lying, crawling cad and clown, + And may very well be grateful + To the fool that takes him down. + + As for all the windy waters, + They were rained like tempests down + When good drink had been dishonoured + By the tipplers of the town; + When red wine had brought red ruin + And the death-dance of our times, + Heaven sent us Soda Water + As a torment for our crimes. + + + + +Who Goes Home? + + + In the city set upon slime and loam + They cry in their parliament "Who goes home?" + And there comes no answer in arch or dome, + For none in the city of graves goes home. + Yet these shall perish and understand, + For God has pity on this great land. + + Men that are men again; who goes home? + Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home? + For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam + And blood on the body when Man goes home. + And a voice valedictory.... Who is for Victory? + Who is for Liberty? Who goes home? + + + Printed in Great Britain by + UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, WOKING AND LONDON + + + + +SOME DELIGHTFUL BOOKS BY G. K. CHESTERTON + + +*CHARLES DICKENS. + +With 2 Portraits in Photogravure. _Eighth Edition._ Crown 8vo, 6s. + +A famous book on Dickens which is intended as a general justification of +that author. Mr. Chesterton compares the immense achievements produced +by the optimism of Dickens in the realm of reform with the small results +produced by the pessimistic method of later days. He treats each of the +novels in turn, and he devotes the latter part of his book to a general +estimate of the influence of Dickens. + +THE FLYING INN. _Third Edition._ Crown 8vo, 6s. Also Crown 8vo, 2s. net. + +THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE. _Fifth Edition._ Fcap. 8vo, 5s. + +A Ballad of the Reign of King Alfred. It describes that monarch's noble +exploits, his character, his struggle with the Danes, the story of the +White Horse, and the Battle of Ethandune. + +LETTERS TO AN OLD GARIBALDIAN. Crown 8vo, 3d. net. + + +ESSAYS + +Fcap. 8vo. Gilt Top. 5s. each. + +*ALL THINGS CONSIDERED. _Seventh Edition._ + +TREMENDOUS TRIFLES. _Fifth Edition._ + +ALARMS AND DISCURSIONS. _Second Edition._ + +A MISCELLANY OF MEN. _Second Edition._ + + +* _An edition in cloth, Fcap. 8vo, 1s. net, is also issued._ + + +METHUEN & CO. LTD. LONDON + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Wine, Water, and Song, by Gilbert Keith Chesterton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINE, WATER, AND SONG *** + +***** This file should be named 35115-8.txt or 35115-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/1/1/35115/ + +Produced by Jana Srna, Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wine, Water, and Song + +Author: Gilbert Keith Chesterton + +Release Date: January 29, 2011 [EBook #35115] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINE, WATER, AND SONG *** + + + + +Produced by Jana Srna, Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div id="tnote"> +<p class="center"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></p> +<p>Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as +possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation; no +changes have been made to the original text.</p> +</div> + +<p class="center page-break" style="font-size: x-large;">WINE, WATER, AND SONG</p> + +<p class="center page-break" style="font-size: large;">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p> + +<ul id="other-works"> +<li>CHARLES DICKENS</li> +<li>THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE</li> +<li>THE FLYING INN</li> +<li>ALL THINGS CONSIDERED</li> +<li>TREMENDOUS TRIFLES</li> +<li>ALARMS AND DISCURSIONS</li> +<li>A MISCELLANY OF MEN</li> +</ul> + +<h1>WINE, WATER<br/> +AND SONG</h1> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: large;"><small>BY</small><br/> +G. K. CHESTERTON</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: 0.8em; margin: 6em auto;">THIRD EDITION</p> + +<p class="center" style="line-height: 1.3em;">METHUEN & CO. LTD.<br/> +36 ESSEX STREET W.C.<br/> +LONDON</p> + +<table id="published" class="page-break" summary="Publication Information"> +<tr> +<td>First Published</td> +<td class="right">August 6th 1915</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Second Edition</td> +<td class="right">August 10th 1915</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Third Edition</td> +<td class="right">August 23rd 1915</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<h2>NOTE</h2> + +<p style="max-width: 24em; margin: auto;"> +The Songs in this book are taken from “ +<span class="small-caps">The Flying Inn</span>,” with the exception of “The +Good Rich Man” and “The Song of the +Strange Ascetic,” which are here included by +kind permission of the editor of <b><cite>The New +Witness</cite></b>, where they originally appeared. +</p> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_7" title="7"> </a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table id="toc" summary="Contents"> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="right" style="border-bottom: none;">Page</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Englishman</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Wine and Water</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Song against Grocers</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Rolling English Road</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Song of Quoodle</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Pioneers, O Pioneers</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Logical Vegetarian</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“The Saracen's Head”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Good Rich Man</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Song against Songs</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Me Heart</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Song of the Oak</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Road to Roundabout</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Song of the Strange Ascetic</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Song of Right and Wrong</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Who Goes Home?</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="center page-break" style="font-size: x-large;"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_9" title="9"> </a> +WINE, WATER, AND SONG</p> + +<h2 class="page-break-auto">The Englishman</h2> + +<div class="poetry width16"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">St. George</span> he was for England,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And before he killed the dragon<br/></div> +<div class="line">He drank a pint of English ale<br/></div> +<div class="line">Out of an English flagon.<br/></div> +<div class="line">For though he fast right readily<br/></div> +<div class="line">In hair-shirt or in mail,<br/></div> +<div class="line">It isn't safe to give him cakes<br/></div> +<div class="line">Unless you give him ale.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_10" title="10"> </a><div class="line">St. George he was for England,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And right gallantly set free<br/></div> +<div class="line">The lady left for dragon's meat<br/></div> +<div class="line">And tied up to a tree;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But since he stood for England<br/></div> +<div class="line">And knew what England means,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Unless you give him bacon<br/></div> +<div class="line">You mustn't give him beans.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">St. George he is for England,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And shall wear the shield he wore<br/></div> +<div class="line">When we go out in armour<br/></div> +<div class="line">With the battle-cross before.<br/></div> +<div class="line">But though he is jolly company<br/></div> +<div class="line">And very pleased to dine,<br/></div> +<div class="line">It isn't safe to give him nuts<br/></div> +<div class="line">Unless you give him wine.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_11" title="11"> </a>Wine and Water</h2> + +<div class="poetry width33"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">Old</span> Noah he had an ostrich farm and fowls on the largest scale,<br/></div> +<div class="line">He ate his egg with a ladle in an egg-cup big as a pail,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And the soup he took was Elephant Soup and the fish he took was Whale,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_12" title="12"> </a><div class="line">But they all were small to the cellar he took when he set out to sail,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And Noah he often said to his wife when he sat down to dine,<br/></div> +<div class="line">“I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.”<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">The cataract of the cliff of heaven fell blinding off the brink<br/></div> +<div class="line">As if it would wash the stars away as suds go down a sink,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The seven heavens came roaring down for the throats of hell to drink,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_13" title="13"> </a><div class="line">And Noah he cocked his eye and said, “It looks like rain, I think,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The water has drowned the Matterhorn as deep as a Mendip mine,<br/></div> +<div class="line">But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.”<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">But Noah he sinned, and we have sinned; on tipsy feet we trod,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Till a great big black teetotaller was sent to us for a rod,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And you can't get wine at a P.S.A., or chapel, or Eisteddfod,<br/></div> +<div class="line">For the Curse of Water has come again because of the wrath of God,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_14" title="14"> </a><div class="line">And water is on the Bishop's board and the Higher Thinker's shrine,<br/></div> +<div class="line">But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_15" title="15"> </a>The Song Against Grocers</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">God</span> made the wicked Grocer<br/></div> +<div class="line">For a mystery and a sign,<br/></div> +<div class="line">That men might shun the awful shops<br/></div> +<div class="line">And go to inns to dine;<br/></div> +<div class="line">Where the bacon's on the rafter<br/></div> +<div class="line">And the wine is in the wood,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And God that made good laughter<br/></div> +<div class="line">Has seen that they are good.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_16" title="16"> </a><div class="line">The evil-hearted Grocer<br/></div> +<div class="line">Would call his mother “Ma'am,”<br/></div> +<div class="line">And bow at her and bob at her,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Her aged soul to damn,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And rub his horrid hands and ask<br/></div> +<div class="line">What article was next,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Though <b><i lang="la" xml:lang="la">mortis in articulo</i></b><br/></div> +<div class="line">Should be her proper text.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">His props are not his children,<br/></div> +<div class="line">But pert lads underpaid,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Who call out “Cash!” and bang about<br/></div> +<div class="line">To work his wicked trade;<br/></div> +<div class="line">He keeps a lady in a cage<br/></div> +<div class="line">Most cruelly all day,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_17" title="17"> </a><div class="line">And makes her count and calls her “Miss”<br/></div> +<div class="line">Until she fades away.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">The righteous minds of innkeepers<br/></div> +<div class="line">Induce them now and then<br/></div> +<div class="line">To crack a bottle with a friend<br/></div> +<div class="line">Or treat unmoneyed men,<br/></div> +<div class="line">But who hath seen the Grocer<br/></div> +<div class="line">Treat housemaids to his teas<br/></div> +<div class="line">Or crack a bottle of fish-sauce<br/></div> +<div class="line">Or stand a man a cheese?<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">He sells us sands of Araby<br/></div> +<div class="line">As sugar for cash down;<br/></div> +<div class="line">He sweeps his shop and sells the dust<br/></div> +<div class="line">The purest salt in town,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_18" title="18"> </a><div class="line">He crams with cans of poisoned meat<br/></div> +<div class="line">Poor subjects of the King,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And when they die by thousands<br/></div> +<div class="line">Why, he laughs like anything.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">The wicked Grocer groces<br/></div> +<div class="line">In spirits and in wine,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Not frankly and in fellowship<br/></div> +<div class="line">As men in inns do dine;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But packed with soap and sardines<br/></div> +<div class="line">And carried off by grooms,<br/></div> +<div class="line">For to be snatched by Duchesses<br/></div> +<div class="line">And drunk in dressing-rooms.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">The hell-instructed Grocer<br/></div> +<div class="line">Has a temple made of tin,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_19" title="19"> </a><div class="line">And the ruin of good innkeepers<br/></div> +<div class="line">Is loudly urged therein;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But now the sands are running out<br/></div> +<div class="line">From sugar of a sort,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The Grocer trembles; for his time,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Just like his weight, is short.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_20" title="20"> </a>The Rolling English Road</h2> + +<div class="poetry width31"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">Before</span> the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.<br/></div> +<div class="line">A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_21" title="21"> </a><div class="line">A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread<br/></div> +<div class="line">The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed<br/></div> +<div class="line">To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_22" title="22"> </a><div class="line">His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run<br/></div> +<div class="line">Behind him; and the hedges all strengthing in the sun?<br/></div> +<div class="line">The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,<br/></div> +<div class="line">But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.<br/></div> +<div class="line">God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear<br/></div> +<div class="line">The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_23" title="23"> </a><div class="line">But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;<br/></div> +<div class="line">For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_24" title="24"> </a>The Song of Quoodle</h2> + +<div class="poetry width16"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">They</span> haven't got no noses,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The fallen sons of Eve;<br/></div> +<div class="line">Even the smell of roses<br/></div> +<div class="line">Is not what they supposes;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But more than mind discloses<br/></div> +<div class="line">And more than men believe.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">They haven't got no noses,<br/></div> +<div class="line">They cannot even tell<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_25" title="25"> </a><div class="line">When door and darkness closes<br/></div> +<div class="line">The park a Jew encloses,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Where even the Law of Moses<br/></div> +<div class="line">Will let you steal a smell.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">The brilliant smell of water,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The brave smell of a stone,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The smell of dew and thunder,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The old bones buried under,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Are things in which they blunder<br/></div> +<div class="line">And err, if left alone.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">The wind from winter forests,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The scent of scentless flowers,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The breath of brides' adorning,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The smell of snare and warning,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_26" title="26"> </a><div class="line">The smell of Sunday morning,<br/></div> +<div class="line">God gave to us for ours.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">. . . . .<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">And Quoodle here discloses<br/></div> +<div class="line">All things that Quoodle can,<br/></div> +<div class="line">They haven't got no noses,<br/></div> +<div class="line">They haven't got no noses,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And goodness only knowses<br/></div> +<div class="line">The Noselessness of Man.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_27" title="27"> </a>Pioneers, O Pioneers</h2> + +<div class="poetry width26"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">Nebuchadnezzar</span> the King of the Jews<br/></div> +<div class="line">Suffered from new and original views,<br/></div> +<div class="line">He crawled on his hands and knees, it's said,<br/></div> +<div class="line">With grass in his mouth and a crown on his head.<br/></div> +<div class="line indent6">With a wowtyiddly, etc.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_28" title="28"> </a><div class="line">Those in traditional paths that trod<br/></div> +<div class="line">Thought the thing was a curse from God,<br/></div> +<div class="line">But a Pioneer men always abuse<br/></div> +<div class="line">Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">Black Lord Foulon the Frenchman slew<br/></div> +<div class="line">Thought it a Futurist thing to do.<br/></div> +<div class="line">He offered them grass instead of bread.<br/></div> +<div class="line">So they stuffed him with grass when they cut off his head.<br/></div> +<div class="line indent6">With a wowtyiddly, etc.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_29" title="29"> </a><div class="line">For the pride of his soul he perished then—<br/></div> +<div class="line">But of course it is always of Pride that men,<br/></div> +<div class="line">A Man in Advance of his Age accuse,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">Simeon Scudder of Styx, in Maine,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Thought of the thing and was at it again.<br/></div> +<div class="line">He gave good grass and water in pails<br/></div> +<div class="line">To a thousand Irishmen hammering rails.<br/></div> +<div class="line indent6">With a wowtyiddly, etc.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_30" title="30"> </a><div class="line">Appetites differ; and tied to a stake<br/></div> +<div class="line">He was tarred and feathered for Conscience' Sake.<br/></div> +<div class="line">But stoning the prophets is ancient news,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_31" title="31"> </a>The Logical Vegetarian</h2> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Why shouldn't I have a purely vegetarian +drink? Why shouldn't I take vegetables in +their highest form, so to speak? The modest +vegetarians ought obviously to stick to wine +or beer, plain vegetarian drinks, instead of filling +their goblets with the blood of bulls and +elephants, as all conventional meat-eaters do, +I suppose.”—<span class="small-caps">Dalroy.</span></p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="poetry width23"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line indent2"><span class="upper-case">You</span> will find me drinking rum,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Like a sailor in a slum,<br/></div> +<div class="line">You will find me drinking beer like a Bavarian.<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">You will find me drinking gin<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">In the lowest kind of inn,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Because I am a rigid Vegetarian.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_32" title="32"> </a><div class="line indent2">So I cleared the inn of wine,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And I tried to climb the sign,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And I tried to hail the constable as “Marion.”<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">But he said I couldn't speak,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And he bowled me to the Beak<br/></div> +<div class="line">Because I was a Happy Vegetarian.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line indent2">Oh, I knew a Doctor Gluck,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And his nose it had a hook,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And his attitudes were anything but Aryan;<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">So I gave him all the pork<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">That I had, upon a fork;<br/></div> +<div class="line">Because I am myself a Vegetarian.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_33" title="33"> </a><div class="line indent2">I am silent in the Club,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">I am silent in the pub.,<br/></div> +<div class="line">I am silent on a bally peak in Darien;<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">For I stuff away for life<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Shoving peas in with a knife,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Because I am at heart a Vegetarian.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line indent2">No more the milk of cows<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Shall pollute my private house<br/></div> +<div class="line">Than the milk of the wild mares of the Barbarian;<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">I will stick to port and sherry,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">For they are so very, very,<br/></div> +<div class="line">So very, very, very Vegetarian.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_34" title="34"> </a>“The Saracen's Head”</h2> + +<div class="poetry width23"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">“<span class="upper-case">The</span> Saracen's Head” looks down the lane,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Where we shall never drink wine again,<br/></div> +<div class="line">For the wicked old women who feel well-bred<br/></div> +<div class="line">Have turned to a tea-shop “The Saracen's Head.”<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_35" title="35"> </a><div class="line">“The Saracen's Head” out of Araby came,<br/></div> +<div class="line">King Richard riding in arms like flame,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And where he established his folk to be fed<br/></div> +<div class="line">He set up a spear—and the Saracen's Head.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">But “The Saracen's Head” outlived the Kings,<br/></div> +<div class="line">It thought and it thought of most horrible things,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Of Health and of Soap and of Standard Bread,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And of Saracen drinks at “The Saracen's Head.”<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_36" title="36"> </a><div class="line">So “The Saracen's Head” fulfils its name,<br/></div> +<div class="line">They drink no wine—a ridiculous game—<br/></div> +<div class="line">And I shall wonder until I'm dead,<br/></div> +<div class="line">How it ever came into the Saracen's Head.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_37" title="37"> </a>The Good Rich Man</h2> + +<div class="poetry width35"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Mandragon</span>, the Millionaire, he wouldn't have wine or wife,<br/></div> +<div class="line">He couldn't endure complexity: he lived the Simple Life.<br/></div> +<div class="line">He ordered his lunch by megaphone in manly, simple tones,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And used all his motors for canvassing voters, and twenty telephones;<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_38" title="38"> </a><div class="line">Besides a dandy little machine,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Cunning and neat as ever was seen,<br/></div> +<div class="line">With a hundred pulleys and cranks between,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Made of metal and kept quite clean,<br/></div> +<div class="line">To hoist him out of his healthful bed on every day of his life,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And wash him and dress him and shave him and brush him<br/></div> +<div class="line indent6">—to live the Simple Life.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">Mr. Mandragon was most refined and quietly, neatly dressed,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Say all the American newspapers that know refinement best;<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_39" title="39"> </a><div class="line">Quiet and neat the hat and hair and the coat quiet and neat,<br/></div> +<div class="line">A trouser worn upon either leg, while boots adorn the feet;<br/></div> +<div class="line">And not, as any one would expect,<br/></div> +<div class="line">A Tiger's Skin all striped and specked,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And a Peacock Hat with the tail erect,<br/></div> +<div class="line">A scarlet tunic with sunflowers decked,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Which might have had a more marked effect,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And pleased the pride of a weaker man that yearned for wine or wife;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But Fame and the Flagon, for Mr. Mandragon<br/></div> +<div class="line indent6">—obscured the Simple Life.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_40" title="40"> </a><div class="line">Mr. Mandragon, the Millionaire, I am happy to say, is dead;<br/></div> +<div class="line">He enjoyed a quiet funeral in a Crematorium shed.<br/></div> +<div class="line">And he lies there fluffy and soft and grey and certainly quite refined;<br/></div> +<div class="line">When he might have rotted to flowers and fruit with Adam and all mankind,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Or been eaten by wolves athirst for blood,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Or burnt on a good tall pyre of wood,<br/></div> +<div class="line">In a towering flame, as a heathen should,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Or even sat with us here at food,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_41" title="41"> </a><div class="line">Merrily taking twopenny ale and pork with a pocket-knife;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But this was luxury not for one that went for the Simple Life.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_42" title="42"> </a>The Song Against Songs</h2> + +<div class="poetry width33"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">The</span> song of the sorrow of Melisande is a weary song and a dreary song,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The glory of Mariana's grange had got into great decay,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The song of the Raven Never More has never been called a cheery song,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And the brightest things in Baudelaire are anything else but gay.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_43" title="43"> </a><div class="line">But who will write us a riding song,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Or a hunting song or a drinking song,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Fit for them that arose and rode<br/></div> +<div class="line">When day and the wine were red?<br/></div> +<div class="line">But bring me a quart of claret out,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And I will write you a clinking song,<br/></div> +<div class="line">A song of war and a song of wine<br/></div> +<div class="line">And a song to wake the dead.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">The song of the fury of Fragolette is a florid song and a torrid song,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The song of the sorrow of Tara is sung to a harp unstrung,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_44" title="44"> </a><div class="line">The song of the cheerful Shropshire Lad I consider a perfectly horrid song,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And the song of the happy Futurist is a song that can't be sung.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">But who will write us a riding song<br/></div> +<div class="line">Or a fighting song or a drinking song,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Fit for the fathers of you and me,<br/></div> +<div class="line">That knew how to think and thrive?<br/></div> +<div class="line">But the song of Beauty and Art and Love<br/></div> +<div class="line">Is simply an utterly stinking song,<br/></div> +<div class="line">To double you up and drag you down<br/></div> +<div class="line">And damn your soul alive.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_45" title="45"> </a>Me Heart</h2> + +<div class="poetry width32"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">I come</span> from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And any sword or pistol boy can hit it with me leave,<br/></div> +<div class="line">It shines there for an epaulette, as golden as a flame,<br/></div> +<div class="line">As naked as me ancestors, as noble as me name.<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_46" title="46"> </a><div class="line">For I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve,<br/></div> +<div class="line">But a lady stole it from me on St. Gallowglass's Eve.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">The folk that live in Liverpool, their heart is in their boots;<br/></div> +<div class="line">They go to hell like lambs, they do, because the hooter hoots.<br/></div> +<div class="line">Where men may not be dancin', though the wheels may dance all day;<br/></div> +<div class="line">And men may not be smokin'; but only chimneys may.<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_47" title="47"> </a><div class="line">But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve,<br/></div> +<div class="line">But a lady stole it from me on St. Poleander's Eve.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">The folk that live in black Belfast, their heart is in their mouth,<br/></div> +<div class="line">They see us making murders in the meadows of the South;<br/></div> +<div class="line">They think a plough's a rack, they do, and cattle-calls are creeds,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And they think we're burnin' witches when we're only burnin' weeds;<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_48" title="48"> </a><div class="line">But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But a lady stole it from me on St. Barnabas's Eve.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_49" title="49"> </a>The Song of the Oak</h2> + +<div class="poetry width20"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">The</span> Druids waved their golden knives<br/></div> +<div class="line">And danced around the Oak<br/></div> +<div class="line">When they had sacrificed a man;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But though the learned search and scan,<br/></div> +<div class="line">No single modern person can<br/></div> +<div class="line">Entirely see the joke.<br/></div> +<div class="line">But though they cut the throats of men<br/></div> +<div class="line">They cut not down the tree,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_50" title="50"> </a><div class="line">And from the blood the saplings sprang<br/></div> +<div class="line">Of oak-woods yet to be.<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">He rots the tree as ivy would,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">He clings and crawls as ivy would<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">About the sacred tree.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">King Charles he fled from Worcester fight<br/></div> +<div class="line">And hid him in an Oak;<br/></div> +<div class="line">In convent schools no man of tact<br/></div> +<div class="line">Would trace and praise his every act,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Or argue that he was in fact<br/></div> +<div class="line">A strict and sainted bloke,<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_51" title="51"> </a><div class="line">But not by him the sacred woods<br/></div> +<div class="line">Have lost their fancies free,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And though he was extremely big<br/></div> +<div class="line">He did not break the tree.<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">He breaks the tree as ivy would,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And eats the woods as ivy would<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Between us and the sea.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">Great Collingwood walked down the glade<br/></div> +<div class="line">And flung the acorns free,<br/></div> +<div class="line">That oaks might still be in the grove<br/></div> +<div class="line">As oaken as the beams above,<br/></div> +<div class="line">When the great Lover sailors love<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_52" title="52"> </a><div class="line">Was kissed by Death at sea.<br/></div> +<div class="line">But though for him the oak-trees fell<br/></div> +<div class="line">To build the oaken ships,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The woodman worshipped what he smote<br/></div> +<div class="line">And honoured even the chips.<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">He hates the tree as ivy would,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">As the dragon of the ivy would<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">That has us in his grips.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_53" title="53"> </a>The Road to Roundabout</h2> + +<div class="poetry width20"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">Some</span> say that Guy of Warwick,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The man that killed the Cow<br/></div> +<div class="line">And brake the mighty Boar alive<br/></div> +<div class="line">Beyond the Bridge at Slough;<br/></div> +<div class="line">Went up against a Loathly Worm<br/></div> +<div class="line">That wasted all the Downs,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And so the roads they twist and squirm<br/></div> +<div class="line">(If I may be allowed the term)<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_54" title="54"> </a><div class="line">From the writhing of the stricken Worm<br/></div> +<div class="line">That died in seven towns.<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">I see no scientific proof<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">That this idea is sound,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And I should say they wound about<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">To find the town of Roundabout,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">The merry town of Roundabout,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">That makes the world go round.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">Some say that Robin Goodfellow,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Whose lantern lights the meads<br/></div> +<div class="line">(To steal a phrase Sir Walter Scott<br/></div> +<div class="line">In heaven no longer needs),<br/></div> +<div class="line">Such dance around the trysting-place<br/></div> +<div class="line">The moonstruck lover leads;<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_55" title="55"> </a><div class="line">Which superstition I should scout<br/></div> +<div class="line">There is more faith in honest doubt<br/></div> +<div class="line">(As Tennyson has pointed out)<br/></div> +<div class="line">Than in those nasty creeds.<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">But peace and righteousness (St. John)<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">In Roundabout can kiss,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And since that's all that's found about<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">The pleasant town of Roundabout,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">The roads they simply bound about<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">To find out where it is.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">Some say that when Sir Lancelot<br/></div> +<div class="line">Went forth to find the Grail,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Grey Merlin wrinkled up the roads<br/></div> +<div class="line">For hope that he should fail;<br/></div> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_56" title="56"> </a><div class="line">All roads led back to Lyonesse<br/></div> +<div class="line">And Camelot in the Vale,<br/></div> +<div class="line">I cannot yield assent to this<br/></div> +<div class="line">Extravagant hypothesis,<br/></div> +<div class="line">The plain, shrewd Briton will dismiss<br/></div> +<div class="line">Such rumours (<b><i>Daily Mail</i></b>).<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">But in the streets of Roundabout<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Are no such factions found,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Or theories to expound about,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Or roll upon the ground about,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">In the happy town of Roundabout,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">That makes the world go round.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_57" title="57"> </a>The Song of the Strange Ascetic</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">If</span> I had been a Heathen,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">I'd have praised the purple vine,<br/></div> +<div class="line">My slaves should dig the vineyards,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And I would drink the wine;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But Higgins is a Heathen,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And his slaves grow lean and grey,<br/></div> +<div class="line">That he may drink some tepid milk<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Exactly twice a day.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_58" title="58"> </a><div class="line">If I had been a Heathen,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">I'd have crowned Neœra's curls,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And filled my life with love affairs,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">My house with dancing girls;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But Higgins is a Heathen,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And to lecture rooms is forced,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Where his aunts, who are not married,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Demand to be divorced.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">If I had been a Heathen,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">I'd have sent my armies forth,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And dragged behind my chariots<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">The Chieftains of the North.<br/></div> +<div class="line">But Higgins is a Heathen,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And he drives the dreary quill,<br/></div> +<div class="line">To lend the poor that funny cash<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">That makes them poorer still.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_59" title="59"> </a><div class="line">If I had been a Heathen,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">I'd have piled my pyre on high,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And in a great red whirlwind<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Gone roaring to the sky;<br/></div> +<div class="line">But Higgins is a Heathen,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And a richer man than I;<br/></div> +<div class="line">And they put him in an oven,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Just as if he were a pie.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">Now who that runs can read it,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">The riddle that I write,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Of why this poor old sinner,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">Should sin without delight—?<br/></div> +<div class="line">But I, I cannot read it<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">(Although I run and run),<br/></div> +<div class="line">Of them that do not have the faith,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent2">And will not have the fun.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_60" title="60"> </a>The Song of Right and Wrong</h2> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">Feast</span> on wine or fast on water,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And your honour shall stand sure,<br/></div> +<div class="line">God Almighty's son and daughter<br/></div> +<div class="line">He the valiant, she the pure;<br/></div> +<div class="line">If an angel out of heaven<br/></div> +<div class="line">Brings you other things to drink,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Thank him for his kind attentions,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Go and pour them down the sink.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_61" title="61"> </a><div class="line">Tea is like the East he grows in,<br/></div> +<div class="line">A great yellow Mandarin<br/></div> +<div class="line">With urbanity of manner<br/></div> +<div class="line">And unconsciousness of sin;<br/></div> +<div class="line">All the women, like a harem,<br/></div> +<div class="line">At his pig-tail troop along;<br/></div> +<div class="line">And, like all the East he grows in,<br/></div> +<div class="line">He is Poison when he's strong.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">Tea, although an Oriental,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Is a gentleman at least;<br/></div> +<div class="line">Cocoa is a cad and coward,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Cocoa is a vulgar beast,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Cocoa is a dull, disloyal,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Lying, crawling cad and clown,<br/></div> +<div class="line">And may very well be grateful<br/></div> +<div class="line">To the fool that takes him down.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_62" title="62"> </a><div class="line">As for all the windy waters,<br/></div> +<div class="line">They were rained like tempests down<br/></div> +<div class="line">When good drink had been dishonoured<br/></div> +<div class="line">By the tipplers of the town;<br/></div> +<div class="line">When red wine had brought red ruin<br/></div> +<div class="line">And the death-dance of our times,<br/></div> +<div class="line">Heaven sent us Soda Water<br/></div> +<div class="line">As a torment for our crimes.<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagenum" name="Page_63" title="63"> </a>Who Goes Home?</h2> + +<div class="poetry width25"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line"><span class="upper-case">In</span> the city set upon slime and loam<br/></div> +<div class="line">They cry in their parliament “Who goes home?”<br/></div> +<div class="line">And there comes no answer in arch or dome,<br/></div> +<div class="line">For none in the city of graves goes home.<br/></div> +<div class="line">Yet these shall perish and understand,<br/></div> +<div class="line">For God has pity on this great land.<br/></div> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_64" title="64"> </a><div class="line">Men that are men again; who goes home?<br/></div> +<div class="line">Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home?<br/></div> +<div class="line">For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam<br/></div> +<div class="line">And blood on the body when Man goes home.<br/></div> +<div class="line">And a voice valedictory.… Who is for Victory?<br/></div> +<div class="line">Who is for Liberty? Who goes home?<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 8em;"><i>Printed in Great Britain by</i><br/> +<small>UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, WOKING AND LONDON</small></p> + +<div id="delightful-books"> +<h2><small>SOME DELIGHTFUL BOOKS BY</small><br/> +G. K. CHESTERTON</h2> + +<p class="book">* CHARLES DICKENS.</p> + +<p class="info">With 2 Portraits in Photogravure. <i>Eighth Edition.</i> +Crown 8vo, 6s.</p> + +<p class="abstract">A famous book on Dickens which is intended as a general +justification of that author. Mr. Chesterton compares the +immense achievements produced by the optimism of Dickens +in the realm of reform with the small results produced by +the pessimistic method of later days. He treats each of the +novels in turn, and he devotes the latter part of his book to +a general estimate of the influence of Dickens.</p> + +<p class="book">THE FLYING INN.</p> + +<p class="info"><i>Third Edition.</i> +Crown 8vo, 6s. Also Crown 8vo, 2s. net.</p> + +<p class="book">THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE +HORSE.</p> + +<p class="info"><i>Fifth Edition.</i> Fcap. 8vo, 5s.</p> + +<p class="abstract">A Ballad of the Reign of King Alfred. It describes that +monarch's noble exploits, his character, his struggle with the +Danes, the story of the White Horse, and the Battle of +Ethandune.</p> + +<p class="book">LETTERS TO AN OLD +GARIBALDIAN.</p> + +<p class="info">Crown 8vo, 3d. net.</p> + +<p class="center underlined" style="font-size: 1.2em;"><i>ESSAYS</i></p> + +<p class="center">Fcap. 8vo. Gilt Top. 5s. each.</p> + +<p class="book">* ALL THINGS CONSIDERED.</p> + +<p class="info"><i>Seventh Edition.</i></p> + +<p class="book">TREMENDOUS TRIFLES.</p> + +<p class="info"><i>Fifth Edition.</i></p> + +<p class="book">ALARMS AND DISCURSIONS.</p> + +<p class="info"><i>Second Edition.</i></p> + +<p class="book">A MISCELLANY OF MEN.</p> + +<p class="info"><i>Second Edition.</i></p> + +<p class="center">* <i>An edition in cloth, Fcap. 8vo, 1s. net, is also issued.</i></p> + +<p class="center" style="border-top: 6px double black; padding-top: 0.5em;">METHUEN & CO. LTD. LONDON</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Wine, Water, and Song, by Gilbert Keith Chesterton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINE, WATER, AND SONG *** + +***** This file should be named 35115-h.htm or 35115-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/1/1/35115/ + +Produced by Jana Srna, Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wine, Water, and Song + +Author: Gilbert Keith Chesterton + +Release Date: January 29, 2011 [EBook #35115] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINE, WATER, AND SONG *** + + + + +Produced by Jana Srna, Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + [ Transcriber's Notes: + + Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as + possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation; + no changes have been made to the original text. + + Italic text has been marked with _underscores_. + Bold italic text has been marked with =equals signs=. + ] + + + + +WINE, WATER, AND SONG + + + + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + + CHARLES DICKENS + THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE + THE FLYING INN + ALL THINGS CONSIDERED + TREMENDOUS TRIFLES + ALARMS AND DISCURSIONS + A MISCELLANY OF MEN + + + + + WINE, WATER + AND SONG + + BY + G. K. CHESTERTON + + + THIRD EDITION + + + METHUEN & CO. LTD. + 36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + LONDON + + + + + First Published August 6th 1915 + Second Edition August 10th 1915 + Third Edition August 23rd 1915 + + + + +NOTE + + +The Songs in this book are taken from "THE FLYING INN," with the +exception of "The Good Rich Man" and "The Song of the Strange Ascetic," +which are here included by kind permission of the editor of =The New +Witness=, where they originally appeared. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + Page + + The Englishman 9 + + Wine and Water 11 + + The Song against Grocers 15 + + The Rolling English Road 20 + + The Song of Quoodle 24 + + Pioneers, O Pioneers 27 + + The Logical Vegetarian 31 + + "The Saracen's Head" 34 + + The Good Rich Man 37 + + The Song against Songs 42 + + Me Heart 45 + + The Song of the Oak 49 + + The Road to Roundabout 53 + + The Song of the Strange Ascetic 57 + + The Song of Right and Wrong 60 + + Who Goes Home? 63 + + + + +WINE, WATER, AND SONG + + + + +The Englishman + + + St. George he was for England, + And before he killed the dragon + He drank a pint of English ale + Out of an English flagon. + For though he fast right readily + In hair-shirt or in mail, + It isn't safe to give him cakes + Unless you give him ale. + + St. George he was for England, + And right gallantly set free + The lady left for dragon's meat + And tied up to a tree; + But since he stood for England + And knew what England means, + Unless you give him bacon + You mustn't give him beans. + + St. George he is for England, + And shall wear the shield he wore + When we go out in armour + With the battle-cross before. + But though he is jolly company + And very pleased to dine, + It isn't safe to give him nuts + Unless you give him wine. + + + + +Wine and Water + + + Old Noah he had an ostrich farm and fowls on the largest scale, + He ate his egg with a ladle in an egg-cup big as a pail, + And the soup he took was Elephant Soup and the fish he took was Whale, + But they all were small to the cellar he took when he set out to sail, + And Noah he often said to his wife when he sat down to dine, + "I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine." + + The cataract of the cliff of heaven fell blinding off the brink + As if it would wash the stars away as suds go down a sink, + The seven heavens came roaring down for the throats of hell to drink, + And Noah he cocked his eye and said, "It looks like rain, I think, + The water has drowned the Matterhorn as deep as a Mendip mine, + But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine." + + But Noah he sinned, and we have sinned; on tipsy feet we trod, + Till a great big black teetotaller was sent to us for a rod, + And you can't get wine at a P.S.A., or chapel, or Eisteddfod, + For the Curse of Water has come again because of the wrath of God, + And water is on the Bishop's board and the Higher Thinker's shrine, + But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine. + + + + +The Song Against Grocers + + + God made the wicked Grocer + For a mystery and a sign, + That men might shun the awful shops + And go to inns to dine; + Where the bacon's on the rafter + And the wine is in the wood, + And God that made good laughter + Has seen that they are good. + + The evil-hearted Grocer + Would call his mother "Ma'am," + And bow at her and bob at her, + Her aged soul to damn, + And rub his horrid hands and ask + What article was next, + Though =mortis in articulo= + Should be her proper text. + + His props are not his children, + But pert lads underpaid, + Who call out "Cash!" and bang about + To work his wicked trade; + He keeps a lady in a cage + Most cruelly all day, + And makes her count and calls her "Miss" + Until she fades away. + + The righteous minds of innkeepers + Induce them now and then + To crack a bottle with a friend + Or treat unmoneyed men, + But who hath seen the Grocer + Treat housemaids to his teas + Or crack a bottle of fish-sauce + Or stand a man a cheese? + + He sells us sands of Araby + As sugar for cash down; + He sweeps his shop and sells the dust + The purest salt in town, + He crams with cans of poisoned meat + Poor subjects of the King, + And when they die by thousands + Why, he laughs like anything. + + The wicked Grocer groces + In spirits and in wine, + Not frankly and in fellowship + As men in inns do dine; + But packed with soap and sardines + And carried off by grooms, + For to be snatched by Duchesses + And drunk in dressing-rooms. + + The hell-instructed Grocer + Has a temple made of tin, + And the ruin of good innkeepers + Is loudly urged therein; + But now the sands are running out + From sugar of a sort, + The Grocer trembles; for his time, + Just like his weight, is short. + + + + +The Rolling English Road + + + Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode, + The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road. + A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire, + And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire; + A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread + The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head. + + I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire, + And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire; + But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed + To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made, + Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands, + The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands. + + His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run + Behind him; and the hedges all strengthing in the sun? + The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which, + But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch. + God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear + The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier. + + My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage, + Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age, + But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth, + And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death; + For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen, + Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green. + + + + +The Song of Quoodle + + + They haven't got no noses, + The fallen sons of Eve; + Even the smell of roses + Is not what they supposes; + But more than mind discloses + And more than men believe. + + They haven't got no noses, + They cannot even tell + When door and darkness closes + The park a Jew encloses, + Where even the Law of Moses + Will let you steal a smell. + + The brilliant smell of water, + The brave smell of a stone, + The smell of dew and thunder, + The old bones buried under, + Are things in which they blunder + And err, if left alone. + + The wind from winter forests, + The scent of scentless flowers, + The breath of brides' adorning, + The smell of snare and warning, + The smell of Sunday morning, + God gave to us for ours. + + . . . . . + + And Quoodle here discloses + All things that Quoodle can, + They haven't got no noses, + They haven't got no noses, + And goodness only knowses + The Noselessness of Man. + + + + +Pioneers, O Pioneers + + + Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews + Suffered from new and original views, + He crawled on his hands and knees, it's said, + With grass in his mouth and a crown on his head. + With a wowtyiddly, etc. + + Those in traditional paths that trod + Thought the thing was a curse from God, + But a Pioneer men always abuse + Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews. + + Black Lord Foulon the Frenchman slew + Thought it a Futurist thing to do. + He offered them grass instead of bread. + So they stuffed him with grass when they cut off his head. + With a wowtyiddly, etc. + + For the pride of his soul he perished then-- + But of course it is always of Pride that men, + A Man in Advance of his Age accuse, + Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews. + + Simeon Scudder of Styx, in Maine, + Thought of the thing and was at it again. + He gave good grass and water in pails + To a thousand Irishmen hammering rails. + With a wowtyiddly, etc. + + Appetites differ; and tied to a stake + He was tarred and feathered for Conscience' Sake. + But stoning the prophets is ancient news, + Like Nebuchadnezzar the King of the Jews. + + + + +The Logical Vegetarian + + +"Why shouldn't I have a purely vegetarian drink? Why shouldn't I take +vegetables in their highest form, so to speak? The modest vegetarians +ought obviously to stick to wine or beer, plain vegetarian drinks, +instead of filling their goblets with the blood of bulls and elephants, +as all conventional meat-eaters do, I suppose."--Dalroy. + + You will find me drinking rum, + Like a sailor in a slum, + You will find me drinking beer like a Bavarian. + You will find me drinking gin + In the lowest kind of inn, + Because I am a rigid Vegetarian. + + So I cleared the inn of wine, + And I tried to climb the sign, + And I tried to hail the constable as "Marion." + But he said I couldn't speak, + And he bowled me to the Beak + Because I was a Happy Vegetarian. + + Oh, I knew a Doctor Gluck, + And his nose it had a hook, + And his attitudes were anything but Aryan; + So I gave him all the pork + That I had, upon a fork; + Because I am myself a Vegetarian. + + I am silent in the Club, + I am silent in the pub., + I am silent on a bally peak in Darien; + For I stuff away for life + Shoving peas in with a knife, + Because I am at heart a Vegetarian. + + No more the milk of cows + Shall pollute my private house + Than the milk of the wild mares of the Barbarian; + I will stick to port and sherry, + For they are so very, very, + So very, very, very Vegetarian. + + + + +"The Saracen's Head" + + + "The Saracen's Head" looks down the lane, + Where we shall never drink wine again, + For the wicked old women who feel well-bred + Have turned to a tea-shop "The Saracen's Head." + + "The Saracen's Head" out of Araby came, + King Richard riding in arms like flame, + And where he established his folk to be fed + He set up a spear--and the Saracen's Head. + + But "The Saracen's Head" outlived the Kings, + It thought and it thought of most horrible things, + Of Health and of Soap and of Standard Bread, + And of Saracen drinks at "The Saracen's Head." + + So "The Saracen's Head" fulfils its name, + They drink no wine--a ridiculous game-- + And I shall wonder until I'm dead, + How it ever came into the Saracen's Head. + + + + +The Good Rich Man + + + Mr. Mandragon, the Millionaire, he wouldn't have wine or wife, + He couldn't endure complexity: he lived the Simple Life. + He ordered his lunch by megaphone in manly, simple tones, + And used all his motors for canvassing voters, and twenty telephones; + Besides a dandy little machine, + Cunning and neat as ever was seen, + With a hundred pulleys and cranks between, + Made of metal and kept quite clean, + To hoist him out of his healthful bed on every day of his life, + And wash him and dress him and shave him and brush him + --to live the Simple Life. + + Mr. Mandragon was most refined and quietly, neatly dressed, + Say all the American newspapers that know refinement best; + Quiet and neat the hat and hair and the coat quiet and neat, + A trouser worn upon either leg, while boots adorn the feet; + And not, as any one would expect, + A Tiger's Skin all striped and specked, + And a Peacock Hat with the tail erect, + A scarlet tunic with sunflowers decked, + Which might have had a more marked effect, + And pleased the pride of a weaker man that yearned for wine or wife; + But Fame and the Flagon, for Mr. Mandragon + --obscured the Simple Life. + + Mr. Mandragon, the Millionaire, I am happy to say, is dead; + He enjoyed a quiet funeral in a Crematorium shed. + And he lies there fluffy and soft and grey and certainly quite refined; + When he might have rotted to flowers and fruit with Adam and all mankind, + Or been eaten by wolves athirst for blood, + Or burnt on a good tall pyre of wood, + In a towering flame, as a heathen should, + Or even sat with us here at food, + Merrily taking twopenny ale and pork with a pocket-knife; + But this was luxury not for one that went for the Simple Life. + + + + +The Song Against Songs + + + The song of the sorrow of Melisande is a weary song and a dreary song, + The glory of Mariana's grange had got into great decay, + The song of the Raven Never More has never been called a cheery song, + And the brightest things in Baudelaire are anything else but gay. + + But who will write us a riding song, + Or a hunting song or a drinking song, + Fit for them that arose and rode + When day and the wine were red? + But bring me a quart of claret out, + And I will write you a clinking song, + A song of war and a song of wine + And a song to wake the dead. + + The song of the fury of Fragolette is a florid song and a torrid song, + The song of the sorrow of Tara is sung to a harp unstrung, + The song of the cheerful Shropshire Lad I consider a perfectly horrid song, + And the song of the happy Futurist is a song that can't be sung. + + But who will write us a riding song + Or a fighting song or a drinking song, + Fit for the fathers of you and me, + That knew how to think and thrive? + But the song of Beauty and Art and Love + Is simply an utterly stinking song, + To double you up and drag you down + And damn your soul alive. + + + + +Me Heart + + + I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, + And any sword or pistol boy can hit it with me leave, + It shines there for an epaulette, as golden as a flame, + As naked as me ancestors, as noble as me name. + For I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, + But a lady stole it from me on St. Gallowglass's Eve. + + The folk that live in Liverpool, their heart is in their boots; + They go to hell like lambs, they do, because the hooter hoots. + Where men may not be dancin', though the wheels may dance all day; + And men may not be smokin'; but only chimneys may. + But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve, + But a lady stole it from me on St. Poleander's Eve. + + The folk that live in black Belfast, their heart is in their mouth, + They see us making murders in the meadows of the South; + They think a plough's a rack, they do, and cattle-calls are creeds, + And they think we're burnin' witches when we're only burnin' weeds; + But I come from Castlepatrick, and me heart is on me sleeve; + But a lady stole it from me on St. Barnabas's Eve. + + + + +The Song of the Oak + + + The Druids waved their golden knives + And danced around the Oak + When they had sacrificed a man; + But though the learned search and scan, + No single modern person can + Entirely see the joke. + But though they cut the throats of men + They cut not down the tree, + And from the blood the saplings sprang + Of oak-woods yet to be. + But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood, + He rots the tree as ivy would, + He clings and crawls as ivy would + About the sacred tree. + + King Charles he fled from Worcester fight + And hid him in an Oak; + In convent schools no man of tact + Would trace and praise his every act, + Or argue that he was in fact + A strict and sainted bloke, + But not by him the sacred woods + Have lost their fancies free, + And though he was extremely big + He did not break the tree. + But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood, + He breaks the tree as ivy would, + And eats the woods as ivy would + Between us and the sea. + + Great Collingwood walked down the glade + And flung the acorns free, + That oaks might still be in the grove + As oaken as the beams above, + When the great Lover sailors love + Was kissed by Death at sea. + But though for him the oak-trees fell + To build the oaken ships, + The woodman worshipped what he smote + And honoured even the chips. + But Ivywood, Lord Ivywood, + He hates the tree as ivy would, + As the dragon of the ivy would + That has us in his grips. + + + + +The Road to Roundabout + + + Some say that Guy of Warwick, + The man that killed the Cow + And brake the mighty Boar alive + Beyond the Bridge at Slough; + Went up against a Loathly Worm + That wasted all the Downs, + And so the roads they twist and squirm + (If I may be allowed the term) + From the writhing of the stricken Worm + That died in seven towns. + I see no scientific proof + That this idea is sound, + And I should say they wound about + To find the town of Roundabout, + The merry town of Roundabout, + That makes the world go round. + + Some say that Robin Goodfellow, + Whose lantern lights the meads + (To steal a phrase Sir Walter Scott + In heaven no longer needs), + Such dance around the trysting-place + The moonstruck lover leads; + Which superstition I should scout + There is more faith in honest doubt + (As Tennyson has pointed out) + Than in those nasty creeds. + But peace and righteousness (St. John) + In Roundabout can kiss, + And since that's all that's found about + The pleasant town of Roundabout, + The roads they simply bound about + To find out where it is. + + Some say that when Sir Lancelot + Went forth to find the Grail, + Grey Merlin wrinkled up the roads + For hope that he should fail; + All roads led back to Lyonesse + And Camelot in the Vale, + I cannot yield assent to this + Extravagant hypothesis, + The plain, shrewd Briton will dismiss + Such rumours (=Daily Mail=). + But in the streets of Roundabout + Are no such factions found, + Or theories to expound about, + Or roll upon the ground about, + In the happy town of Roundabout, + That makes the world go round. + + + + +The Song of the Strange Ascetic + + + If I had been a Heathen, + I'd have praised the purple vine, + My slaves should dig the vineyards, + And I would drink the wine; + But Higgins is a Heathen, + And his slaves grow lean and grey, + That he may drink some tepid milk + Exactly twice a day. + + If I had been a Heathen, + I'd have crowned Neoera's curls, + And filled my life with love affairs, + My house with dancing girls; + But Higgins is a Heathen, + And to lecture rooms is forced, + Where his aunts, who are not married, + Demand to be divorced. + + If I had been a Heathen, + I'd have sent my armies forth, + And dragged behind my chariots + The Chieftains of the North. + But Higgins is a Heathen, + And he drives the dreary quill, + To lend the poor that funny cash + That makes them poorer still. + + If I had been a Heathen, + I'd have piled my pyre on high, + And in a great red whirlwind + Gone roaring to the sky; + But Higgins is a Heathen, + And a richer man than I; + And they put him in an oven, + Just as if he were a pie. + + Now who that runs can read it, + The riddle that I write, + Of why this poor old sinner, + Should sin without delight--? + But I, I cannot read it + (Although I run and run), + Of them that do not have the faith, + And will not have the fun. + + + + +The Song of Right and Wrong + + + Feast on wine or fast on water, + And your honour shall stand sure, + God Almighty's son and daughter + He the valiant, she the pure; + If an angel out of heaven + Brings you other things to drink, + Thank him for his kind attentions, + Go and pour them down the sink. + + Tea is like the East he grows in, + A great yellow Mandarin + With urbanity of manner + And unconsciousness of sin; + All the women, like a harem, + At his pig-tail troop along; + And, like all the East he grows in, + He is Poison when he's strong. + + Tea, although an Oriental, + Is a gentleman at least; + Cocoa is a cad and coward, + Cocoa is a vulgar beast, + Cocoa is a dull, disloyal, + Lying, crawling cad and clown, + And may very well be grateful + To the fool that takes him down. + + As for all the windy waters, + They were rained like tempests down + When good drink had been dishonoured + By the tipplers of the town; + When red wine had brought red ruin + And the death-dance of our times, + Heaven sent us Soda Water + As a torment for our crimes. + + + + +Who Goes Home? + + + In the city set upon slime and loam + They cry in their parliament "Who goes home?" + And there comes no answer in arch or dome, + For none in the city of graves goes home. + Yet these shall perish and understand, + For God has pity on this great land. + + Men that are men again; who goes home? + Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home? + For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam + And blood on the body when Man goes home. + And a voice valedictory.... Who is for Victory? + Who is for Liberty? Who goes home? + + + Printed in Great Britain by + UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, WOKING AND LONDON + + + + +SOME DELIGHTFUL BOOKS BY G. K. CHESTERTON + + +*CHARLES DICKENS. + +With 2 Portraits in Photogravure. _Eighth Edition._ Crown 8vo, 6s. + +A famous book on Dickens which is intended as a general justification of +that author. Mr. Chesterton compares the immense achievements produced +by the optimism of Dickens in the realm of reform with the small results +produced by the pessimistic method of later days. He treats each of the +novels in turn, and he devotes the latter part of his book to a general +estimate of the influence of Dickens. + +THE FLYING INN. _Third Edition._ Crown 8vo, 6s. Also Crown 8vo, 2s. net. + +THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE. _Fifth Edition._ Fcap. 8vo, 5s. + +A Ballad of the Reign of King Alfred. It describes that monarch's noble +exploits, his character, his struggle with the Danes, the story of the +White Horse, and the Battle of Ethandune. + +LETTERS TO AN OLD GARIBALDIAN. Crown 8vo, 3d. net. + + +ESSAYS + +Fcap. 8vo. Gilt Top. 5s. each. + +*ALL THINGS CONSIDERED. _Seventh Edition._ + +TREMENDOUS TRIFLES. _Fifth Edition._ + +ALARMS AND DISCURSIONS. _Second Edition._ + +A MISCELLANY OF MEN. _Second Edition._ + + +* _An edition in cloth, Fcap. 8vo, 1s. net, is also issued._ + + +METHUEN & CO. LTD. 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