SESTINA OF THE TRAMP-ROYAL

For 'im that doth not work must surely die;
But that's no reason man should labour all
'Is life on one same shift; life's none so long.

Therefore, from job to job I've moved along.
Pay couldn't 'old me when my time was done,
For something in my 'ead upset me all,
Till I 'ad dropped whatever 'twas for good,
An', out at sea, be'eld the dock-lights die,
An' met my mate-the wind that tramps the world!

It's like a book, I think, this bloomin' world,
Which you can read and care for just so long,
But presently you feel that you will die
Unless you get the page you're readin' done,
An' turn another-likely not so good;

But what you're after is to turn 'em all.

Gawd bless this world! Whatever she 'ath doneExcep' when awful long-I've found it good.

So write, before I die, ''E liked it all!'

BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS

(1893-1896)

1

HEN 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre,
He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea;
An' what he thought 'e might require,
'E went an' took-the same as me!

The market-girls an' fishermen,
The shepherds an' the sailors, too,
They 'eard old songs turn up again,
But kep' it quiet-same as you!

They knew 'e stole; 'e knew they knowed.
They didn't tell, nor make a fuss,
But winked at 'Omer down the road,
An' 'e winked back-the same as us!

BOBS

HERE'S a little red-faced man,
Which is Bobs.

Rides the tallest 'orse 'e can-
Our Bobs.

If it bucks or kicks or rears,

'E can sit for twenty years,
With a smile round both 'is ears-
Can't yer, Bobs?

Then 'ere's to Bobs Bahadur-
Little Bobs, Bobs, Bobs!
'E's our pukka Kandahader-

Fightin' Bobs, Bobs, Bobs! 'E's the Dook of Aggy Chel;1 'E's the man that done us well, An' we'll follow 'im to 'ellWon't we, Bobs?

If a limber's slipped a trace,
'Ook on Bobs.

If a marker's lost 'is place,
Dress by Bobs.

For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat,
An' a bugle in 'is throat,

An' you will not play the goat

Under Bobs.

1Get ahead.