No.139

Archimedes Was All Wet

Anon

King Hero of old Syracuse had doubts that made him frown.

"Perhaps my goldsmith did not use pure gold to make the crown."

Since proof of mischief must be strong to put a thief in collar,

The king who feared his judgment wrong called on his science scholar.

"Archimedes, friend of old, find me the solution!

Is my crown pure solid gold, or is that an illusion?"

The scholar's task was serious; he struggled hard with math.

His mind was near delirious until he poured his bath.

He noticed how the water pushed him up as he stepped in.

He thought about it harder as he stroked his bearded chin.

"The weight of displaced liquid should always let me know

When any golden solid has a density too low!"

"Eureka!", he resounded. "I have such a clever mind".

Yet his claim was unfounded 'cause he left his clothes behind!

-o0o-

No.138

Silver

Walter de la Mare 1873-1958

Slowly, silently, now the moon

Walks the night in her silver shoon;

This way, and that, she peers, and sees

Silver fruit upon silver trees;

One by one the casements catch

Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;

Couched in his kennel, like a log,

With paws of silver sleeps the dog;

From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep

Of doves in silver feathered sleep

A harvest mouse goes scampering by,

With silver claws, and silver eye;

And moveless fish in the water gleam,

By silver reeds in a silver stream. 

-o0o-

No.137

Invalided

Edward Shillito 1871-1948

He limps along the city street,

Men pass him with a pitying glance;

He is not there, but on the sweet

And troubled plains of France.

Once more he marches with the guns,

Reading the way by merry signs,

His Regent Street through trenches runs,

His Strand among the pines.

For there his comrades jest and fight,

And others sleep in that fair land;

They call him back in dreams of night

To join their dwindling band.

He may not go; on him must lie

The doom, through peaceful years to live,

To have a sword he cannot ply,

A life he cannot give.

-o0o-

No.136

A'wearyin' for You

Frank Stanton 1857-1927

Just a’wearyin' for you

All the time a’feelin' blue

Wishin' for you, wonderin' when

You’ll be coming home again

Restless don’t know what to do

Just a’wearyin' for you

Morning comes, the birds awake

Seem to sing so for your sake

But there’s sadness in the notes

That come trillin' from their throats

Seem to feel a sadness too

Just a’wearyin' for you

Evening comes I miss you more

When the dark gloom’s round the door

Seems just like you ought to be

Here to open it for me

Latch goes tinklin' thrills me through

Sets me wearyin’ for you

Just a’wearyin' for you

-o0o-

The Monday Monologue

There's a little sallow Man lives north of Waterloo

Billy Bennett 1887-1942

There's a little sallow man lives north of Waterloo,

And he owns the toughest music hall in town, 

There are broken-hearted comics, there's a graveyard for them too

And the gallery gods are forever gazing down.

He was known as Fat Caroo in the pubs round Waterloo,

And he wore a green tie with a diamond pin; 

He was worshipped in the ranks by the captain of the swanks,

And the coalman's daughter loved his double chin.

He had loved her all along and despite his ong-bong-pong

The fact that she loved him they say was right, 

Though her complexion was a fake, and her teeth were put and take 

Put in by day and taken out by night.

'Twas the fifteenth anniversary of her twenty-second year,

So he smiled at her as sweetly as a hog 

And asked what present she would like. And jestingly she said: 

"Your green tie for my little yellow dog."

Fat Caroo seemed in a trance and his heart slipped through his pants,

But he tried his utmost not to look a wreck, 

So he handed her the tie and kissed her hand good bye- 

When he bowed his head she bit his neck.

Later on Caroo came to, his tie had gone, it's true

And his tiepin with it! He seemed in a fog.

He rushed liked mad to find, that she'd tied that tie behind

To the tailpiece of her little yellow dog.

She was screaming like a child, the dog was running wild,

Biting policemen as he galloped up the straight; 

For the little dog, called Tom, when he wagged his to and from,

Felt the tie pin urge him on to meet his fate.

The dog returned at dawn with his windscreen slightly torn,

And unseen took something from the lady's room. 

To another room he flew, saying: "That's for Fat Caroo,"

And silently he slunk out in the gloom.

When Caroo jumped into bed, he'd ‘ave wakened up the dead

With a scream as he fell like a hog; 

Her false teeth, they were buried in the seat of Fat Caroo- 

'Twas the vengeance of that little yellow dog.

There's a cockeyed yellow poodle to the north of Conga Pooch;

There's a little hot cross bun that's turning green;

There's a double-jointed woman doing tricks in Chu-Chin-Chow,

And you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din.

-o0o-

No.134

I, too, sing America
Langston Hughes 1902-67

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides, 
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed -

-o0o-

No.133

Ben Lomond

Thomas Campbell 1777-1844

Hadst thou a genius on thy peak,

What tales, white-headed Ben,

Could'st thou of ancient ages speak,

That mock th'historian's pen!

Thy long duration makes our lives

Seem but so many hours;

And likens, to the bees' frail hives,

Our most stupendous towers.

Temples and towers thou seest begun,

New creeds, new conquerors sway;

And, like their shadows in the sun,

Hast seen them swept away.

Thy steadfast summit, heaven-allied

(Unlike life's little span),

Looks down a mentor on the pride

Of perishable man.

-o0o-