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Archive for 19/11/2009

I do

19/11/2009 by Richard.

it used to terrify Gwen and me

And who remembers our dad reciting this ….?

19/11/2009 by Ted.

The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God, J. Milton Hayes

There’s a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There’s a little marble cross below the town;
There a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.

He was known as “Mad Carew” by the subs at Khatmandu,
He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell;
But for all his foolish pranks, he was worshipped in the ranks,
And the Colonel’s daughter smiled on him as well.

He had loved her all along, with a passion of the strong,
The fact that she loved him was plain to all.
She was nearly twenty-one and arrangements had begun
To celebrate her birthday with a ball.

He wrote to ask what present she would like from Mad Carew;
They met next day as he dismissed a squad;
And jestingly she told him then that nothing else would do
But the green eye of the little Yellow God.

On the night before the dance, Mad Carew seemed in a trance,
And they chaffed him as they puffed at their cigars:
But for once he failed to smile, and he sat alone awhile,
Then went out into the night beneath the stars.

He returned before the dawn, with his shirt and tunic torn,
And a gash across his temple dripping red;
He was patched up right away, and he slept through all the day,
And the Colonel’s daughter watched beside his bed.

He woke at last and asked if they could send his tunic through;
She brought it, and he thanked her with a nod;
He bade her search the pocket saying “That’s from Mad Carew,”
And she found the little green eye of the god.

She upbraided poor Carew in the way that women do,
Though both her eyes were strangely hot and wet;
But she wouldn’t take the stone and Mad Carew was left alone
With the jewel that he’d chanced his life to get.

When the ball was at its height, on that still and tropic night,
She thought of him and hurried to his room;
As she crossed the barrack square she could hear the dreamy air
Of a waltz tune softly stealing thro’ the gloom.

His door was open wide, with silver moonlight shining through;
The place was wet and slipp’ry where she trod;
An ugly knife lay buried in the heart of Mad Carew,
‘Twas the “Vengeance of the Little Yellow God.”

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Another Odd Ode from Stanley Holloway for your pleasure

19/11/2009 by Ted.

Sam Small
By Stanley Holloway

It occurred on the evening before Waterloo,
And t’troops were lined up on parade,
The Sergeant inspecting ‘em he were a terror,
Of whom every man was afraid

All excepting one man who was in the front rank,
A man by the name of Sam Small,
And ‘im and the Sergeant were both ‘daggers drawn’,
They thought nowt of each other at all

As Sergeant walked past he were swinging his arms,
And he happened to brush against Sam,
And knocking his musket clean out of his hand,
It fell to the ground with a slam

‘Pick it up’ said t’Sergeant, abrupt like but cool,
But Sam with a shake of his head,
‘Seeing as tha’ knocked it out of me hand,
P’raps tha’ll pick the thing up instead.

‘Sam, Sam, pick up thy musket,’
The Sergeant exclaimed with a roar,
Sam said ‘Tha knocked it down, reet! then tha’ll pick it up,
Or it’ll stay where it is on’t floor

The sound of high words very soon reached the ears,
Of an Officer, Lieutenant Bird,
Who says to the Sergeant, ‘Now what’s all this ere?’
And the Sergeant told what had occurred.

‘Sam, Sam, pick up thy musket’
Lieutenant exclaimed with some heat,
Sam said, ‘He knocked it down reet! Then he’ll pick it up,
Or it stays where it is, at me feet

It caused quite a stir when the Captain arrived,
To find out the cause of the trouble,
And every man there, all except Sam,
Was full of excitement and bubble

‘Sam, Sam, pick up thy musket’,
Said Captain for strictness renowned,
Sam said ‘He knocked it doon, Reet! so he’ll pick it up,
Or it stays where it is on’t ground

The same thing occurred when the Major and Colonel,
Both tried to get Sam to see sense,
But when Old Duke o’ Wellington came into view,
Well the excitement was really quite tense

Up rode the Duke on a loverly white ‘orse,
To find out the cause of the bother,
He looked at the musket and then at Old Sam,
And he talked to Old Sam like a brother

‘Sam, Sam, pick up thy musket’
The Duke said as quiet as could be,
‘Sam, Sam pick up thi musket,
Coom on lad, just to please me

‘Alright Duke,’ said Old Sam, ‘just for thee I’ll oblige,
And to show thee I meant no offence’,
So Sam picked it up, ‘Gradely, lad’ said the Duke,
‘Right-o boys… let battle commence.’

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Archive for 19/11/2009

I do

And who remembers our dad reciting this ….?

Another Odd Ode from Stanley Holloway for your pleasure