Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis Poems
The Stoush O' Day Ar, these is 'appy days! An' 'ow they've flown
Flown like the smoke of some inchanted fag;
Since dear Doreen, the sweetest tart I've known,
John Galsworthy Not for vague honors, not for treacherous power
He lived and toiled thro' this, his earthy span;
But to uphold and cultivate the dower,
The Yellow Robin I'm the friendliest of them all,
When winter comes;
Daily at your door I call
Conducted Tour Walk up! Walk up to the Bureaucratic Fair!
All the tasters and the testers and the tallymen are there.
All the freaks and other fancies of the mighty tax machine.
Brightness Breaches And The Beak Bright young thing: Thou on the beaches
Life is gay and pleasure laden
All in vain the law beseeches
Granny Discovers Another Tiger That's him!! The authentic, identical beast!
The Unionist tiger, full brother to 'Sosh'!
I know by the prowl of him.
Jove's Opportunity Thunder? Why, no. Some static, may have been
A far, faint rumble and a glimmering light.
This, and no more, John, have we heard and seen,
The Knight's Return The conq'rin' 'ero! Me? Yes, I don't think.
This mornin' when I catch the train fer 'ome,
It's far more like a walloped pup I slink
Lotsertime Aw, chuck the mail bags over there,
It's great to have 'em brought by air;
But, now they're here, just sling 'em round,
Mad, But Not So Mad Though our eye in recent seasons
Has a wild and glassy glare,
And we fail to offer reasons
Before The War 'Before the war,' she sighs. 'Before the war.'
Then blinks 'er eyes, an' tries to work a smile.
'Ole scenes,' she sez, 'don't look the same no more.
Two Veterans Side by side near the road they stand
Like grave old men grown wise with years,
Veterans twain in this forest land,
Leg Theory Oh, what a pleasant game is life
When we are bravely batting
And glorying in skill and strife.
Laissez-faire We'd harbored them on hovels, and in dens,
Altho' in price they counted less than cattle,
Had they not still the right, that ws all men's,
Intangible Tigers There's a moral in this: tho' I own that the preaching
Of moral and maxim in season and out
Grows stale; yet these days of depressions far-reaching
A Bush Christmas The sun burns hotly thro' the gums
As down the road old Rogan comes
The hatter from the lonely hut
Rose 'Ah, wot's the use?' she sez. 'Lea' me alone!
Why can't I go to 'ell in my own way?
I never arst you 'ere to mag an' moan.
The Alcoholic Albatross Brothers, what are we to think
When we muse upon strong drink?
Is it bad or is it good?
The Builders Behold, I built a fowlhouse in my yard!
Two months agone the great work was begun,
And ev'ry eventide I labored hard,
Cooked What's the use?
Give it best;
Cut her loose;
The Little Black Cormorant By inlet and islet and wide river reaches,
By lake and lagoon I'm at home,
Yet oft' the far forests of blue-gum and beeches
Bushmen Rugged men and tough men these,
Men of the lonely ways,
Hard and sturdy as their trees
Galloping Days Galloping, galloping, galloping horses
Weave thro' our dreaming in burgeoning Spring;
There's sun in our hearts and there's sun on the courses,
The Looking Glass When I look into the looking glass
I'm always sure to see -
No matter how I dodge about -
The Listener Why, certainly. Let's listen to the cricket.
Oh, I'm quite keen. Test match, I understand.
At... What's that? Oh, Australia's at the wicket.
An Appeal To End Appeals Sir, - I try to do my duty as a patriotic man
With sane views about the science of gastronomy;
And I'd ask the promulgators of each food consuming plan
The Dinkum Aussie Block What have we missed? Now he returns no more
We are left with but our blindness to deplore,
But, concentrating on his spats instead,
The Kindly Copper Oh, for that kindly copper
I knew long years ago,
A stalwart man and proper,
Monday Morning I often pause to contemplate
The sadly barren mental state
Of persons whom it is my fate
Dummy Bridge 'If I'd 'a' played me Jack on that there Ten'
Sez Peter Begg, 'I might 'a' made the lot.'
''Ow could yeh?' barks ole Poole. ''Ow could yeh, when
Mallee Wife Home's best (she said), and the tale
Of the hungering soil and the flail
Of the sun and the shuddering threat
Fruits Of Victory These be the fruits, O man who would out-loom
The proudest Caesar of Rome's proudest story,
When legion after legion marched to doom
Get Work On one fine but fatal morning in the early Eocene,
Lo, a brawny Bloke set out to dig a hole:
First of men to put a puncture in the tertiary green
The Ant Explorer Once a little sugar ant made up his mind to roam-
To fare away far away, far away from home.
He had eaten all his breakfast, and he had his ma's consent
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,
The Intro 'Er name's Doreenâ?¦Well spare me bloomin' days!
You could er knocked me down wiv 'arf a brick!
Yes, me, that kids meself I know their ways,
The Hacking Song Yes, it's tryin', Mrs Gudgits. Very tryin', as you say.
To 'ave a 'usban' on yer 'an's not only night but day.
An' so I can't go out with you, much as I wisht I could;
Affable Alf Have you heard the inscrutable mutable Alf,
The mannerly man with the silvery tongue?
Anzac Anzac! And war's grim storm . . .
The scream of a pass'ng shell
Torn earth, and - a quiet form . . .
The Freetrade Rabbit Pie Ses Cullen, the cockie, he ses to me:
'Now, I puts it to you in this way:
If a feller....(Woah, Ginger! Come over, yeh cow!)....
A Land Shanty Sou' sou' east, with the course set fair
Heave ho, me hearties!
On the Geelong road we're cruisin' there
Corryong The cattle-lands of Corryong,
The maiden of the snows
(Where silver streams the winter long
The Fate Of A Harpist There is women, yer Worship, of various kinds:
An' some of 'em's fluffy a' foolish,
An' some is sispicious an' mean in their minds,
A Spring Song The world 'as got me snouted jist a treat;
Crool Forchin's dirty left 'as smote me soul;
An' all them joys o' life I 'eld so sweet
The Apologist Dear friends, I'm Deakin....
No; no mistake,
You're wide awake.
To The Memory Of Claude Marquet Because to him the wise gods gave
Rare gifts, to lesser folk denied,
He might have thriven, Mammon's slave,
The Artist And The Alderman 'Give us gardens!' said the artist,
'Blatant brick and soulless stone,
Never built a noble city.
The Circus Hey, there! Hoop-la! the circus is in town!
Have you seen the elephant? Have you seen the clown?
Have you seen the dappled horse gallop round the ring?
Culture And Cops Five nights agone I lay at rest
On my suburban couch.
My trousers on the bedpost hung,
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
Total 714 poems written by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Poem of the day
The Forsaken by Thomas Hood
The dead are in their silent graves,
And the dew is cold above,
And the living weep and sigh,
Over dust that once was love.
Once I only wept the dead,
But now the living cause my pain:
How couldst thou steal me from my tears,
To leave me to my tears again?
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