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The Little Vagabond

Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold;
But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm.
Besides, I can tell where I am used well;
Such usage in heaven will never do well.

But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,
And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
We’d sing and we’d pray all the livelong day,
Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.

Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing,
And we’d be as happy as birds in the spring;
And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church,
Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.

And God, like a father, rejoicing to see
His children as pleasant and happy as He,
Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.

poem by William Blake from Songs of Experience (1794)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Rural Diversity

Migrant workers..
From Texas to Wisconsin
Fifty years ago..

Coming to where the work
and dreams were plentiful.

A little ale and little sleep
This cultural diversity is a part of
our rural farming history

Past and Present

A young Texan hombre
Finding work and a little pay
Courting a senorita
both from the same tiny Texan town, Cotulla

They marry here in Wisconsin
Their offspring playing

[...] Read more

poem by Celia AmanteaSchulz
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A Poor Old Pensioner's Prayer

Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring,
Can You fix my electric wiring?
Can You mend my old T.V.
And will You do it all for free?

You walked the waves at Galilee,
You cured the blind so they could see,
You raised the dead and healed the sick,
I'm sure You'll think of some clever trick!

I do not mean to cause offence,
I'm just an Old Man talking sense,
Won't You do it, dearest Lord,
And charge a price I can afford?

I promise that I'll do my bit
And keep Your holy candles lit,
I've always been an honest man
And always do the best I can,

[...] Read more

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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The Voice Of The Man Impatient With Visions And Utopias

We find your soft Utopias as white
As new-cut bread, and dull as life in cells,
O, scribes who dare forget how wild we are
How human breasts adore alarum bells.
You house us in a hive of prigs and saints
Communal, frugal, clean and chaste by law.
I’d rather brood in bloody Elsinore
Or be Lear’s fool, straw-crowned amid the straw.
Promise us all our share in Agincourt
Say that our clerks shall venture scorns and death,
That future ant-hills will not be too good
For Henry Fifth, or Hotspur, or Macbeth.
Promise that through to-morrow’s spirit-war
Man’s deathless soul will hack and hew its way,
Each flaunting Caesar climbing to his fate
Scorning the utmost steps of yesterday.
Never a shallow jester any more!
Let not Jack Falstaff spill the ale in vain.
Let Touchstone set the fashions for the wise
And Ariel wreak his fancies through the rain.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Classified

Classified, class, deal, as, if, lead, lass, die, fed, flies, dies, ace, sad, lie, sale;
Hear and give ear to my words!
For the round corner of your room is now exposed to me.

Classified, fields, fail, fails, dial, ale, lace, dice, side, ice, aide, lied, lies, sales;
And like the love of your muse with joy!
But hear my words and learn also from me,
For the round corner of your room is now exposed to me.

Classified, lad, lid, led, sail, face, faces, sides, fades, side, aid, case, laid, sled;
With words of love and words of peace,
But remember always to do the right thing!
For th corner of your room is now exposed to me.

Classified, cad, clad, field, lies, aids, acid, field, fields, acids, cases, lair, laird;
With the memories of your love and the joy of peace!
But hear and give ear to my works;
For the round corner of your room is now exposed to me.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Brewer's Dog

The brewer's dog is abroad, boys,
Be careful where you stray,
His teeth are coated with poison,
And he's on the watch for prey.
The brewery is his kennel,
But he lurks on every hand,
And he seeks for easy victims
The children of the land.

His eyes gleam through the windows
Of the gay saloon at night,
And in many a first-class 'drug-store'
He is hiding out of sight.
Be careful where you enter,
And, if you smell his breath,
Flee as you would from a viper,
For its fumes are the fumes of death.

[...] Read more

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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December

While snow the window-panes bedim,
The fire curls up a sunny charm,
Where, creaming o'er the pitcher's rim,
The flowering ale is set to warm;
Mirth, full of joy as summer bees,
Sits there, its pleasures to impart,
And children, 'tween their parent's knees,
Sing scraps of carols o'er by heart.

And some, to view the winter weathers,
Climb up the window-seat with glee,
Likening the snow to falling feathers,
In fancy infant ecstasy;
Laughing, with superstitious love,
O'er visions wild that youth supplies,
Of people pulling geese above,
And keeping Christmas in the skies.

As tho' the homestead trees were drest,
In lieu of snow, with dancing leaves,

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poem by John Clare
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Lullaby

Lullaby! Lullaby!
There’s a tower strong and high
Built of oak and brick and stone,
Stands before a wood alone.
The doors are of the oak so brown
As any ale in Oxford town,
The walls are builded warm and thick
Of the old red Roman brick,
The good grey stone is over all
In arch and floor of the tower tall.
And maidens three are living there
All in the upper chamber fair,
Hung with silver, hung with pall,
And stories painted on the wall.
And softly goes the whirring loom
In my ladies’ upper room,
For they shall spin both night and day
Until the stars do pass away.
But every night at evening.
The window open wide they fling,

[...] Read more

poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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When the Lion Runs

On indentations of the night
The Lion would rise like a river
Meandering in shuddering heights
A phantom cognizant to squander

Astray like a defunct vagabond
He escapes the ghosts of his incarnation
Whet, morbidly, like a diamond
And his Moon, the warden of incarceration

In a cross road the Lion and his Moon
Had fumbled in sight in a flounder
In the instance, the ghosts had swooned
Over the cobwebs of their antechamber

The Lion cajoled for his submission
Enthralled by the ecstasy of lunatic spell,
Whilst the Moon finagled his recuperation
Grazing the gaunt bronze citadel

[...] Read more

poem by Norman Santos
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Country Towns

Country towns, with your willows and squares,
And farmers bouncing on barrel mares
To public houses of yellow wood
With '1860' over their doors,
And that mysterious race of Hogans
Which always keeps the General Stores….

At the School of Arts, a broadsheet lies
Sprayed with the sarcasm of flies:
'The Great Golightly Family
Of Entertainers Here To-night'–
Dated a year and a half ago,
But left there, less from carelessness
Than from a wish to seem polite.

Verandas baked with musky sleep,
Mulberry faces dozing deep,
And dogs that lick the sunlight up
Like paste of gold – or, roused in vain
By far, mysterious buggy-wheels,

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poem by Kenneth Slessor
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