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Pied Piper Of Hamelin, The

A CHILD'S STORY.

(_Written for, and inscribed to, W. M. the Younger._)

I.

Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,
By famous Hanover city;
The river Weser, deep and wide,
Washes its wall on the southern side;
A pleasanter spot you never spied;
But, when begins my ditty,
Almost five hundred years ago,
To see the townsfolk suffer so
From vermin, was a pity.

II.

Rats!
They fought the dogs and killed the cats,

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The Pied Piper of Hamelin

A Child's Story

I.

Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,
By famous Hanover city;
The river Weser, deep and wide,
Washes its wall on the southern side
A pleasanter spot you never spied;
But when begins my ditty,
Almost five hundred years ago,
To see the townsfolk suffer so
From vermin, was a pity.

II.

Rats!
They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,

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For Shrill The Piper Plays His Tune

When thoughts are idle wanderings
Words tumbled round and round
When feelings they turn inwardly
Still I hear the piper's sound.

When happiness is broken
And the Kings and Queens are gone
The piper's tune keeps playing
And I hear his victory song.

For even when awoken
From the sleepiness of time
There's a distant music playing
Heard clear within my mind

For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.

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Piper At The Gates Of Dawn

Piper at the gates of dawn
The coolness of the riverbank, and the whispering of the reeds
Daybreak is not so very far away
Enchanted and spellbound, in the silence they lingered
And rowed the boat as the light grew steadily strong
And the birds were silent, as they listened for the heavenly music
And the river played the song
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The song dream happened and the cloven hoofed piper
Played in that holy ground where they felt the awe and wonder
And they all were unafraid of the great God pan
And the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
When the vision vanished they heard a choir of birds singing
In the heavenly silence between the trance and the reeds
And they stood upon the lawn and listened to the silence
Of the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn

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The Piper And The Prey

this is how friday ended
a little bit hard to believe
my perception slightly bending
as the piper came on the scene
it was something so hypnotic
the music even changed
the crowd got up and got chaotic
and they paid so they could play

the pied piper played
the pied piper pushed
songs to make them crave
songs that seemed so good
songs that made it easier
songs down in their blood
songs that take, steal the love
until the song has had enough

at first, the dance was hesitant
not long before everyone knew it

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The Ballad Of How Macpherson Held The Floor

Said President MacConnachie to Treasurer MacCall:
"We ought to have a piper for our next Saint Andrew's Ball.
Yon squakin' saxophone gives me the syncopated gripes.
I'm sick of jazz, I want to hear the skirling of the pipes."
"Alas! it's true," said Tam MacCall. "The young folk of to-day
Are fox-trot mad and dinna ken a reel from Strathspey.
Now, what we want's a kiltie lad, primed up wi' mountain dew,
To strut the floor at supper time, and play a lilt or two.
In all the North there's only one; of him I've heard them speak:
His name is Jock MacPherson, and he lives on Boulder Creek;
An old-time hard-rock miner, and a wild and wastrel loon,
Who spends his nights in glory, playing pibrochs to the moon.
I'll seek him out; beyond a doubt on next Saint Andrew's night
We'll proudly hear the pipes to cheer and charm our appetite.

Oh lads were neat and lassies sweet who graced Saint Andrew's Ball;
But there was none so full of fun as Treasurer MacCall.
And as Maloney's rag-time bank struck up the newest hit,
He smiled a smile behind his hand, and chuckled: "Wait a bit."
And so with many a Celtic snort, with malice in his eye,

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The piper plays his clans lament.Story poem

On cold grey days, a piper plays
his pibroch on the battlements.
Clad in the garb of bygone days.
He proudly plays his clans lament.

From down below he can be seen
but no one knows who he might be
A misty figure on the scene
Bewailing his clan’s history.

The swank young men who fought and died
in foreign wars far from their home
their sacrifice can’t be denied.
He bids their long dead spirits come.

Come back braw lads where ye belong
Ye have been far too long away.
He guides them home a mighty throng.
His bounden duty is to play.

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How McDougal Topped The Score

A peaceful spot is Piper's Flat. The folk that live around -
They keep themselves by keeping sheep and turning up the ground;
But the climate is erratic, and the consequences are
The struggle with the elements is everlasting war.
We plough, and sow, and harrow - then sit down and pray for rain;
And then we get all flooded out and have to start again.
But the folk are now rejoicing as they ne'er rejoiced before,
For we've played Molongo cricket, and M'Dougal topped the score!

Molongo had a head on it, and challenged us to play
A single-innings match for lunch - the losing team to pay.
We were not great guns at cricket, but we couldn't well say, "No!"
So we all began to practise, and we let the reaping go.
We scoured the Flat for ten miles round to muster up our men,
But when the list was totalled we could only number ten.
Then up spoke big Tim Brady: he was always slow to speak,
And he said - "What price M'Dougal, who lives down at Cooper's Creek?"

So we sent for old M'Dougal, and he stated in reply
That he'd never played at cricket, but he'd half a mind to try.

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Radio King Dom

A few days later the king and queen of the castle were invited to a ball
As they were leaving that evening the queen said to the young prince
Who was the eldest of the children
Take care of the other ones tonight
And dont try to find that radio
We have it hidden away
Well be home by midnight
And then she said goodbye
The childrens mother left
And the party had begun
And the children looked everywhere
High and low
Checking to see if they could find that transistor radio
They couldnt find it they couldnt find it
They looked upstairs and downstairs
All through the castle and finally
All of a sudden they heard a sound
What is that sound is it possible
Could it be the pied piper himself
Coming out of the magic transistor radio

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Mountain Men

The poacher and his daughter
Throw soft shadows on the water in the night.
A thin moon slips behind them
As they pull the net with no betraying light.
And later on the coast road, I meet them
And the old man winks a smile.
And who am I to fast deny the right
To take a fish once in a while?
I walk with them, they wish me luck
When I ship out on the sunday from the kyle.
And from the church I hear them singing
As the ship moves sadly from the pier.
Oh, poachers daughter, sunday best,
Two hundred brave souls share the farewell tear.
Theres a house on the hillside, where the drifting sands are born.
Lay down and let the slow tide wash me
Back to the land where I came from.
Where the mountain men are kings
And the sound of the piper counts for everything.
Did my tour, did my duty. I did all they asked of me.

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