Bird Song - Crow
Crow
I detest the Carrion Crow!
(He's a raven, don't you know?)
He's a greedy glutton, also, and a ghoul,
And his sanctimonious caw
Rubs my temper on the raw.
He's a demon, and a most degraded fowl.
Blue Wren
I admire the pert Blue-wren
And his dainty little hen
Though she hasn't got a trace of blue upon her;
But she's pleasing, and she's pretty,
And she sings a cheerful ditty;
While her husband is a gentleman of honour.
Cuckoo
I despise the Pallid Cuckoo,
A disreputable 'crook' who
Shirks her duties for a lazy life of ease.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Moonlight
I love you, dear, o' morn and moon.
I love your ev'ry mood and guise;
But, neath the soft, enchanting moon,
Such loveliness the gods must prize.
'Tis then I long to dare and fight
The world for you, my queen o' night.
We wander in a jewelled bower;
And, tho' I be your humble slave,
Within that brief, enchanted hour
I know that I am strong and brave.
'Tis then red war I yearn to make
And conquer worlds for your sweet sake.
And old romance in splendour comes
From out the hills to linger nigh;
And in our cause the brave old gums
Stand sentinel against the sky.
'Tis then I would outrival Mars
For you - the sovereign of the stars!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Polly Dibbs
Mrs Dibbs - Polly Dibbs,
Standing at a tub,
Washing other people's clothes -
Rub-Rub-Rub.
Poor, old, skinny arms
White with soapy foam -
At night she takes her shabby hat
And goes off home.
Mrs Dibbs - Polly Dibbs -
Is not very rich.
She goes abroad all day to scrub,
And home at night to stitch.
She wears her shabby hat awry,
Perched on a silly comb;
And people laugh at Polly Dibbs
As she goes home.
Mrs Dibbs - Mother Dibbs -
Growing very old,
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Famine and The Feast
THE FAMINE
Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!
How many eggs did you get to-day?
None in the manger, and none in the shed,
None in the box where the chickens are fed,
None in the tussocks and none in the tub,
And only a little one out in the scrub.
Oh, I say! Dumplings to-day.
I fear that the hens must be laying away.
THE FEAST
Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!
How many eggs did you get to-day?
Two in the manger, and four in the shed,
Six in the box where the chickens are fed,
Two in the tussocks and ten in the tub,
And nearly two dozen right out in the scrub.
Hip, hooray! Pudding to-day!
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Discerning Mr. Murphy
Discerning Mr. Murphy sees
The dangers of the foolish plan
Of giving frailty its fees,
And taxing weak, misguided man.
Reluctantly, and red with shame,
He tells of girls depraved, who may
Take up the old, maternal game
On business lines, and make it pay,
If only foolish magistrates
Will give them rather higher rates.
An extra bob or two a head
Will shatter virtue's final guard;
The tax on bachelors would spread
A baby farm in every yard.
To populate our empty lands
Bring black or brown across the seas
From Hindu, Jap, or coral strands,
But lighten not the penalties
For bearing babes. Such clemence vile
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Wobblers
When the scheming Fusion few
Sought to snare the Lib'ral crew,
It was plain for all to view
That they wobbled.
And when later in the day
They gave liberty away,
One might very truly say
They were hobbled.
Later on, in caucus met,
They were wont to fume and fret,
And 'tis hinted even yet
That they squabbled.
It is said they fought and scratched,
Till the Fusion scheme was hatched,
Then their diff'rences were patched
Crudely cobbled.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Dawn Dance
What do you think I saw to-day when I arose at dawn?
Blue Wrens and Yellow-tails dancing on the lawn!
Bobbing here, and bowing there, gossiping away,
And how I wished that you were there to see the merry play!
But you were snug abed, my boy, blankets to your chin,
Nor dreamed of dancing birds without or sunbeams dancing in.
Grey Thrush, he piped the tune for them. I peeped out through the glass
Between the window curtains, and I saw them on the grass -
Merry little fairy folk, dancing up and down,
Blue bonnet, yellow skirt, cloaks of grey and brown,
Underneath the wattle-tree, silver in the dawn,
Blue Wrens and Yellow-tails dancing on the lawn.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Vale
So ends a life, lived to the full alway,
Thro' peace, thro' war, thro' honored peace again,
From youth unto the closing of his day
Lived simply. Yet a giant among men
Today steals quietly to seek his rest
As quietly he lived, yet none his peer.
In service of his land he gave his best
And, in simplicity, found greatness here.
Seeking no honour but his country's thanks,
No man among us won a place more high.
Comrade and leader where the myriad ranks
Stand now with bended heads as John goes by.
Ever a man, a soldier and a friend
In every heart some echo of the knell
That marks his passing throbs for this great end,
Saying in requiem, 'Pass, John, all is well.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Our Street
In our street, the main street
Running thro' the town,
You see a lot of busy folk
Going up and down:
Bag men and basket men,
Men with loads of hay,
Buying things and selling things
And carting things away.
The butcher is a funny man,
He calls me Dandy Dick;
The baker is a cross man,
I think he's often sick;
The fruiterer's a nice man,
He gives me apples, too;
The grocer says, "Good morning, boy,
What can I do for you?"
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Alternative - 1927
Betty Yack, of Mittyack, charming was and young;
But Betty Yack of Mittyack, had a bitter tongue.
And she married her one Otto who henceforth seemed doomed for life,
To submit to the upbraiding of his bonny, bitter wife.
Betty Yack of Mittyack, joined, while still quite charming,
That association having aims for better farming.
'So far, so good, my bitter Bet,' remarked her husband, Otto.
'If you join associations you must then adopt the motto.'
Betty read the articles and pondered quite a while,
Then nodded to her husband with a soft but gentle smile.
And the happy little couple are at last released from strife.
For Betty Yack, of Mittyack, stays dumb for all her life.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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