Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis Poems

Yarrawonga by herself
Lived too long upon a shelf
She a stolid farmer's wife.
Far remote from modern strife
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'Er name's Doreen ...Well, spare me bloomin' days!
You could er knocked me down wiv 'arf a brick!
Yes, me, that kids meself I know their ways,
An' 'as a name for smoogin' in our click!
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Nay, Mr Speaker, let the ideal stay,
The picture that voters have in mind
Of Solons in debate far leagues away
Deep in the problems of poor humankind.
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Wot price ole Ginger Mick? 'E's done a break -
Gone to the flamin' war to stoush the foe.
Wus it fer glory, or a woman's sake?
Ar, arst me somethin' easy! I dunno.
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Beneath a lamp in Spring-street, on a recent calm spring night,
I came unwittingly upon a most pathetic sight;
A sorry spectacle of woe - a limp, despondent Bloke
Who leaned against a post and sobbed and said his heart was broke!
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What's the use?
Give it best;
Cut her loose;
Have a rest.
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Oh, loyal Orange breth-er-en.
I pray you act as Christlan men,
And, should your spleen arise, count ten
Before you speak.
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Aw, go write yer tinklin' jingle, an' yer pretty phrases mingle,
Fer the mamby-pamby girl, all fluffy frill an' shinin' silk.
Them's the sort ter fetch yer trouble, when yer tries 'em, in the double.
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Aw, I'm sick o' the whole darn human race,
An' I'm sick o' this mundane ball;
I'm sick o' the sight o' me brother's face,
An' his works an' talk an' all;
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Sir, - I try to do my duty as a patriotic man
With sane views about the science of gastronomy;
And I'd ask the promulgators of each food consuming plan
To consider man's interior economy.
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