Geoffrey Anketell Studdert Kennedy
Geoffrey Anketell Studdert Kennedy Poems
|6.||Solomon In All His Glory||9/17/2010|
|8.||I Know Not Where They Have Laid Him||9/17/2010|
|10.||To Stretcher Bearers||9/17/2010|
|12.||What's The Good?||9/17/2010|
|13.||Passing The Love Of Women||9/17/2010|
|14.||What's The Use Of A Cross To 'Im?||9/17/2010|
|16.||Non Angli Sed Angeli||9/17/2010|
Our Padre were a solemn bloke,
We called 'im dismal Jim.
It fairly gave ye t' bloomin' creeps,
To sit and 'ark at 'im,
When he were on wi' Judgment Day,
Abaht that great white Throne,
And 'ow each chap would 'ave to stand,
And answer on 'is own.
And if 'e tried to charnce 'is arm,
And 'ide a single sin,
There'd be the angel Gabriel,
Wi' books to do 'im in.
'E 'ad it all writ dahn, 'e said,
And nothin' could be 'id,
'E 'ad it all i' black and white,
And 'E would take no kid.
And every single idle word,
A soldier charnced to say,
'E'd 'ave it...
Solomon In All His Glory
Still I see them coming, coming,
In their ragged broken line,
Walking wounded in the sunlight,
Clothed in majesty divine.
For the fairest of the lilies,
That God's summer ever sees,
Ne'er was clothed in royal beauty
Such as decks the least of these.
Tattered, torn, and bloody khaki,