Yorskhire Poems by Thomas Jefferson Monkman, part 2


LYRICS by Thomas Jefferson Monkman, 1885:


Time, eighteen seventy-seven, has taken in his flight,
And now we date our documents with seventy-eight ;
And in those changing figures, what a change has been
Depicted in Eastern parts within the intervene
The Sultan's Government agreed to differ with the Czar:
Peace with her Olive Branch gave place to Sword of War.
Alas ! too well the Warrior God of Battle, Mars,
Wrought carnage dire at Plevna and at Kars ;
The mighty God tried hard to win our English aid,
But England's hand has well and wisely stayed ;
The croakers say our Lion dare not fight,
Yet when his honour's really touched, just let them try his bite ;
And with that ease Benicia's boy was beaten by a King
So would our British Lion make the Eagles take their wing ;
But as "fools rush in where angels fear tot read,";
Our angel sits at peace, with fools at war instead
Still when our Lion shakes the dewdrops from his inane,
His foes will find his angry roar means " cut and come again "
Then would we cry, with Fitzgrene Halleck, this,
      "Strike till the last armed toe expires,
      Strike for your altars and your fires.
      Strike for the green graves of your sires,
      GOD, and your native land."
If you require some proof what England's son can do,
I'll furnish you with facts I've singled out as true
When Leander swam the Hellespont across the Dardenelles,
His heroine 'Hero' on the further side made furlongs seem as ells,
Then history proclaimed the feat unique and unsurpassed,

Until our English Byron nailed his colours to the mast;
He swam the distance like a duck, and, what was more to boot,
Valour owed nought to science for a Boyton's Yankee suit ;
And, while we're on natation's tack, this subject shall not ebb,
The world at large cannot produce another Captain Webb.
The Yankee walkist, Weston, came unto old Albion's shore,
To show John Bull what walking meant, while hundreds cried encore ;
The applause continued loud and long, yet Britons did not quail,
The hour arrived, the man was found, his name is William Gale.
Thus England holds supremacy as first of nations still,
While in-bred is her sterling pluck, she sways an iron will ;
Hence, in this assemblage met to-night, what patriot is not proud
To owe his birth to England's Isle in praise sincere and loud
And if, as Lord Macaulay says, Old England once shall fall,
At least this generation shall not see her funeral pall.
                         *   *
The Queen desires her courtier, y'clept Wit,
Present her subjects with a genuine hit.
                         *   *


'Tis said that laughter's so much life enjoyed,
To-night I see all hands, excuse me, faces, everywhere employed,
Employed to laugh and drive away dull care,
That in a partnership with happiness we all may share;
One face I view, a regular shining light,
In fact I may say he's our evening star to-night
Yet stars while visible are always out of reach,
(So need no artist paint when nature holds the breach)
Yet, we are often told, exceptions form the rule,
Hence I must prove my star to be of the terra firma school ;
Now stars we understand to be composed of fire,
And so are many men in our broad acred shire,
That is if shedding light may constitute the term ;
I still shall hold my argument to be both sound and firm,
For what a ray of light my star's cranium oft hath cast,
O'er pile on pile of orders both intricate and vast;
And as stars combined with orders are showered on men of fame,
My orders are imperative to star any friends' good name;
If the Chairman or any philanthropic gentleman will
     order of Port Wine a vat in,
I'll toast with all my heart, our bright and shining orb,
     renowned JOHN LATIN.
                         *   *
Step forth my merry Fun, adorned with cap and bell,
And mind your reputation you sustain full well
                         *   *


Any morning about six, sat like a cavalier,
You may see a veteran horseman who is never in the rear ;
His "Gee up," "Harve," " Whoa Emma," and all that kind of talk,
Fails to get his unruly animal to do anything but walk;
Yet his noble upright presence is a picture you should see
Of a student who is perfect in his transhipping degree ;

Instinct tells him when the tranship train is near the warehouse door,
Just as two and two are as certain to make four,
With his " Noo then lads let's be in tiv her again,
I've nobbut ten minutes left' to catch the morning train ;"
And when the checker is quite ready, and the tipper is so too,
He finds his eccentric horse has bolted from Number Two ;
Bob mutters to himself, "I wish that hoss was dead,
Of all the devils at transhipping, he's the wo'st I ivver hed ;
If I ivver leave him at Monkey Hoose, he's sure to tek his hook,
Just as if warehouse wur a park, and hors thout hissen a jook :"
But Bob's philosophy goes far beyond his "hoss,"
His senses, ever calm, you never see him cross,
And when he's had a taste of Bethel's glorious stingo,
His horny hand conveys a grasp that makes you shout by dingo,"
All hail ! in cheers its loud its an Atlantic roller,
A craft classed Al at Lloyds, and manned by Robert Fowler.
                         *   *
Appear, Good Fellowship, and as thy choice portends,
Name from this goodly throng, two of thy staunchest
                         *   *


Our merry meeting we'll to-night prolong
With wit, mirth, music, and with song,
And loyal hearts shall pay their court with glee
At Friendship's throne, amid gay revelrie ;
Hence let the merry chorus be both loud and strong,
While happy moments wing their flight along ;

Music, 'tis said, can soothe the savage breast,
Therefore I'll hail it with no churlish zest,
And bid all hearts in bonds of love renew -
Old friends and young -their farmer friendships true
Two friends I'll name, I trust without offence,
The genial COWBURN and the generous SPENCE.


Appear Her Majesty, and with a graceful mien,
Command Good Fellowship be present on the scene,
And with thy escorts, Wit, John Bull, and sprightly Fun
Announce each actor's hour upon the stane has run;
Therefore, this court shall sign its warrant of adieu,
Until revolving time this period shall renew,
And when that welcome day comes round again,
Our Queen, en regle, shall resume her potent reign.

Poems by Thomas Jefferson Monkman (1885)
Scanned by Graham Metcalf ©2003
OCRd and checked by Colin Hinson ©2003