Poems by Edward Dyson

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William And Bill

Our Mr. Jiggs was certainly an estimable youth,

A pillar of propriety, a champion of truth;

He had a good position in a warehouse in the town;

A staunch church-worker, he became a layman of renown.

Jiggs owned a bijou villa in a little suburb here;

His wife was small but precious, and their baby was a dear;

But a fly in William’s ointment (and intrude such creatures will)

Was his father, known about the neighborhood as “Bill.”

by Edward Dyson

To A Politician

There was a moment when of you

A splendid hope I had to tell,

Believing "Here is one man who

Will serve our waiting country well."

I saw you sedulous and keen,

I heard the burning words you spoke.

It seemed that you were hard and clean,

And rapier sharp your every stroke.

by Edward Dyson

The Happy Flatite

We were living in a flat; it was number eighty-three.

At eighty-four the Barleys lived, a fearsome man was he.

He had a wife and numerous kids. We heard then rip and cuss,

Some three feet and a quarter off, across the hall from us.

And when the Barley boys broke out, and ended up in fight,

Or when the Barley baby read the Riot Act at night,

And on their balcony their cat put up an eerie moan,

The fearful Barley family might as well have been our own.

126

Edward Dyson

When Beauty Is Bald

I’ve sung of Honor’s golden hair

And Hero’s auburn tresses,

Of Bella’s back abundance, where

The sun throws his caresses;

I’ve sung of curl, and coil, and braid;

On meshes I’ve dilated,

Until at last I’m sore afraid

There’s nothing re the hair of maid

by Edward Dyson

The Emu Of Whroo

WE’VE a tale to tell you of a spavined emit,

A bird with a smile like a crack in a hat,

Who was owned by M‘Cue, of the township of Whroo,

The county of Rodney—his front name was Pat.

The bird was a dandy, although a bit bandy,

Her knees, too, were queer and her neck out of gauge—

She’d eat what was handy, from crowbars to candy,

Was tall, too, and tough for a chick of her age.

by Edward Dyson

Out Of Khaki

I slung me khaki suit to-day.

Civilian now front heel to chin

I 'op round on a single shin;

At home in peace I'm bound to stay.

'N' so they've took me duds away.

It 'urt like strippin' off me skin!

I put it on three years ago,

The ole brown rig. There wasn't then

by Edward Dyson

To The Men Of The Mines

WE SPECKED as boys o’er worked-out ground

By littered fiat and muddy stream,

We watched the whim horse trudging round,

And rode upon the circling beam,

Within the old uproarious mill

Fed mad, insatiable stamps,

Mined peaceful gorge and gusty hill

With pan, and pick, and gad, and drill,

by Edward Dyson

Wherefore Art Thou Romeo?

I see thee still in doublet wide,

And hose well kept, a world too slack,

So long and lean thou wert allied,

It struck me, with that curious back,

The Zoo giraffe. Thy brow was black,

Thy speech was awkward, action slow.

I whispered at thy first attack:

“And wherefore art thou Romeo?”

by Edward Dyson

The Hapless Army

“A soldier braving disease and death on

the battlefield has a seven times better chance

of life than a new-born baby.”—Secretary of

War, U.S.A.

The Hapless Army from the dark

That lies beyond creation,

All blinded by the solar spark,

And leaderless in lands forlorn,

by Edward Dyson

The Letters Of The Dead

A letter came from Dick to-day;

A greeting glad he sends to me.

He tells of one more bloody fray—

Of how with bomb and rifle they

Have put their mark for all to see

Across rock-ribbed Gallipoli.

“How are you doing? Hope all's well,

I in great nick, and like the work.

by Edward Dyson

When Tommy Came Marching Home

Devine came back the other day.

We'd planned a great home-comin'.

No long trombone we had to play,

No fine, heroic drummin'.

With two sticks and a milk-can Borne

Put up a martial clatter,

While Carter blew a bullock-horn

Says Tom Devine, with healthy scorn;

by Edward Dyson

The Girl I Left Behind Me

I said: “I leave my bit of land-

In khaki they've entwined me,

I go abroad to lend a hand.”

Said she: “My love, I understand.

I will be true, and though we part

A thousand years you hold my heart"-

The girl I left behind me.

I went away to fight the Huns-

by Edward Dyson