No.22

UNWELCOME
Mary Coleridge 1861-1907

We were young, we were merry, we were very, very wise,
And the door stood open at our feast,
When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes,
And a man with his back to the East.

O, still grew the hearts that were beating so fast,
The loudest voice was still,
The jest died away on our lips as they passed,
And the rays of July struck chill.

The cups of red wine turned pale on the board,
The white bread black as soot,
The hound forgot the hand of her lord,
She fell down at his foot.

Low let me lie where the dead dog lies,
Ere I sit me down again at a feast,
When there passes a woman with the West in her eyes,
And a man with his back to the East.

-o0o-

DOON IN THE WEE ROOM
Anon

Doon in the wee room underneath the stair
Everybody's happy and everybody's there,
We're a' makin' merry, each in his chair
Doon in the wee room underneath the stair.

When you're tired and weary and you're feeling blue,
Don't give way tae sorrow, we'll tell you what to do,
Just tak' a trip tae Springburn and find the Quin's Bar there
And go doon tae the wee room underneath the stair.

The king went oot a-hunting, his fortune for tae seek.
He missed his train at Partick and went missing for a week.
And after days of searching, of sorrow and despair,
They found him in the wee room underneath the stair.

If your team has won the day and you want tae cheer,
Take a trip tae Springburn and order up a beer,
Hae yersel' a bevvy, gie yersel' a tear,
Doon in the wee room underneath the stair.

When I'm auld and feeble and my bones are gettin' set,
Ah'll no get cross and grumpy like other people get,
Ah'm savin' up ma bawbees tae buy a hurly chair
Tae tak' me tae the wee room underneath the stair.

-o0o-

ONE PERFECT ROSE
Dorothy Parker 1893-1967

A single flower he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet –
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
“My fragile leaves,” it said, “his heart enclose.”
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one’s ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah, no – it’s always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

-o0o-

DOWN IN THE FOREST

- Harold Simpson (dates not known)

Down in the forest something stirred
So faint that I scarcely heard,
But the forest leapt at the sound,
Like a good ship homeward bound.
Down in the forest something stirred,
It was only the song of a bird.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o