More Songs From Vagabondia | Page 7

first to defend a man,?You who had always the money to lend a man,?Down on his luck and hard up for a V!?Sure, you'll be playing a harp in beatitude?(And a quare sight you will be in that attitude)--?Some day, where gratitude seems but a platitude,?You'll find your latitude, Barney McGee.?That's no flim-flam at all,?Frivol or sham at all,?Just the plain--Damn it all,?Have one with me!?Here's luck and more to you!?Friends by the score to you,?True to the core to you,?Barney McGee!
THE SEA GYPSY.
I am fevered with the sunset,?I am fretful with the bay,?For the wander-thirst is on me?And my soul is in Cathay.
There's a schooner in the offing,?With her topsails shot with fire,?And my heart has gone aboard her?For the Islands of Desire.
I must forth again to-morrow!?With the sunset I must be?Hull down on the trail of rapture?In the wonder of the sea.
SPEECH AND SILENCE.
The words that pass from lip to lip?For souls still out of reach!?A friend for that companionship?That's deeper than all speech!
SECRETS.
Three secrets that never were said:?The stir of the sap in the spring,?The desire of a man to a maid,?The urge of a poet to sing.
THE FIRST JULEP.
I love the lazy Southern spring,?The way she melts around a chap?And lets the great magnolias fling?Their languid petals in his lap.
I love to travel down half-way?And meet her coming up the earth,?With hurdy-gurdy men who play?And make the children dance for mirth.
But best of all I love to steer?For quiet corners not too far,?Where the first juleps reappear?With fresh green mint behind the bar.
P. S. Perhaps you'll think it queer,?But I do not dislike a hint?To let the juleps disappear?And stick my nose into the mint.
A STEIN SONG.
Give a rouse, then, in the Maytime?For a life that knows no fear!?Turn night-time into daytime?With the sunlight of good cheer!?For it's always fair weather?When good fellows get together,?With a stein on the table and a good song ringing clear.
When the wind comes up from Cuba?And the birds are on the wing,?And our hearts are patting juba?To the banjo of the spring,?Then it's no wonder whether?The boys will get together,?With a stein on the table and a cheer for everything.
For we're all frank-and-twenty?When the spring is in the air;?And we've faith and hope a-plenty,?And we've life and love to spare;?And it's birds of a feather?When we all get together,?With a stein on the table and a heart without a care.
For we know the world is glorious,?And the goal a golden thing,?And that God is not censorious?When his children have their fling;?And life slips its tether?When the boys get together,?With a stein on the table in the fellowship of spring.
THE UNSAINTING OF KAVIN.
Saint Kavin was a gentleman,?He came from Tipperary;?And woman was the only thing?That ever made him scary.
For Kavin was a tender youth,?And he was very simple;?He feared the wiles of maiden smiles,?And fainted at a dimple.
But when Kathleen at seventeen?Came down the street one morning,?The luck of man came over him?And took him without warning.
Afraid to meet a foolish fate?By green sea or by dry land,?He fled away without delay?And sought a desert island.
But even there he felt despair;?For happiness is only?The hope of doing something else;?And he was very lonely.
He vowed to lead a life of prayer?Because that he had lost her;?And every time he thought of her?He said a Pater noster.
Yet hard it is for man to change?The less love for the greater;?And every time he reached Amen,?He must go back to Pater.
And so he grew a year or two?Disconsolate and holy,?While friends he'd known long since had grown?Papas and roly-poly.
Until one day, one blessed day,?A-moping like a Hindoo,?He saw Kathleen in mournful mien?A-passing by his window.
He threw away his rosary,?His Paters_ and his _Aves;?For love is stronger than the wind?That wafts a thousand navies.
The holy man went forth to war,?But not against the devil.?He led the maid within for shade,?And treated her most civil.
He gave her cakes, he gave her wine,?He set his best before her;?And then invited her to dine--?Thenceforth--with her adorer.
Her little head went round for joy;?She tried to kick the rafter:?So Kavin was a saint no more,?And happy ever after.
IN THE WAYLAND WILLOWS.
Once I met a soncy maid,?Soncy maid, soncy maid,?Once I met a soncy maid?In the Wayland willows.
All her hair was goldy brown,?Goldy brown, goldy brown,?In the sun a single braid?To her waist hung down.
Honey bees, honey bees,?You are roving fellows!?Idly went the doxy wind?In the Wayland willows.
There I caught her eye a-dance,?Through the catkins downy.?"Heigho, Brownie-pate," said I;?"Heigho," said my Brownie.
Then I kissed my soncy maid,?Soncy maid, soncy maid,?Kissed and kissed my soncy maid?In the Wayland willows.
Goldy eyes and goldy hair,?And little gypsy bosom,?Chin and lip and shoulder tip,?Blossom after blossom!
Hand in hand and cheek by cheek?All the morning weather!?How the yellow butterflies?Danced and winked together!
Till the day went down the