Complete Works of James Joyce (330 page)
Read Complete Works of James Joyce Online
Authors: Unknown
Ecce Pu
e
r
Of the dark past
A child is born.
With joy and grief
My heart is torn.
Calm in his cradle
The living lies.
May love and mercy
Unclose his eyes!
Young life is breathed
On the glass;
The world that was not
Comes to pass.
A child is sleeping:
An old man gone.
O, father forsaken,
Forgive your son!
Poor little Georgie, the son of a lackey,
Famous for ‘murphies’, spirits, and ‘baccy
Renowned all around for a feathery head
Which had a tendency to become red.
His genius was such that all men used to stare,
His appearance was that of a bull at a fair.
The pride of Kilmainham, the joy of the class,
A moony, a loony, an idiot, an ass.
Drumcondra’s production, and by the same rule,
The prince of all pot-boys, a regular fool.
All hail to the beauteous, the lovely, all hail
And hail to his residence in Portland gaol.
There was an old lady named Grego
r
y
There was an old lady named Gregory
Who said: ‘Come, all ye poets in beggary.’
But she found her imprudence
When hundreds of students
Cried: ‘We’re in that noble category.’
There was a young priest named Delan
e
y
There was a young priest named Delaney
Who said to the girls, ‘
Nota bene,
’Twould tempt the archbishop
The way that you swish up
Your skirts when the weather is rainy.’
There is a weird poet called Russel
l
There is a weird poet called Russell
Who wouldn’t eat even a mussel
When chased by an oyster
He ran to a cloister
Away from the beef and the bustle.
The cloister he called the ‘Hermetic’
I found it a fine diuretic
A most energetic
And mental emetic
Heretic, prophetic, ascetic.
A holy Hegelian Kettle
Has faith which we cannot unsettle
If no one abused it
He might have reduced it
But now he is quite on his mettle.
John Eglinton, my Jo, John,
When last had you a — ?
I fear ye canna go, John,
Although ye are na spent.
O
begin to fel’ John,
Ye canna mak’ it flow,
And even if it swell, John
The lassies wadna know.
John Eglinton, my Jo, John,
I dinna like to say
Of course ye must have sinned, John
When ye were young and gay
It canna be remorse, John,
That keeps ye fra a ride
Your virtue is a farce, John,
Ye cardna if ye tried
Have you heard of the admiral, Togo,
Who said to the girls, it is no go;
But when we come back,
Then each jolly Jack -
Yókogó! Yókogó! Yókogó!’
There once was a Celtic librari
a
n
There once was a Celtic librarian
Whose essays were voted Spencerian,
His name is Magee
But it seems that to me
He’s a flavour that’s more Presbyterian.
Dear, I am asking a favour
Little enough
This, that thou shouldst entype me
This powdery puff
I had no heart for your troubling,
Dearest, did I
Only possess a typewriter or
Money to buy
Thine image, dear, rosily litten
Ever shall be
Thereafter that thou hast typewritten
These things for me —
O, there are two brothers, the Fa
y
s
O, there are two brothers, the Fays,
Who are excellent players of plays,
And, needless to mention, all
Most unconventional,
Filling the world with amaze.
But I angered these brothers, the Fays,
Whose ways are conventional ways,
For I lay in my urine
While ladies so pure in
White petticoats ravished my gaze.
If any told the blue ones that
mountain-footed move,
They would bend down and with batons,
belabour my love.
C’era una volta, una bella bambin
a
C’era una volta, una bella bambina
Che si chiamava Lucia
Dormiva durante il giorno
Dormiva durante la notte
Perché non sapeva camminare
Perché non sapeva camminare
Dormiva durante il giorno
Dormiva durante la notte.
The flower I gave rejected li
e
s
The flower I gave rejected lies.
Sad is my lot for all to see.
Humiliation burns my eyes.
The Grace of God abandons me.
As Alberic sweet love forswore
The power of cursed gold to wield
So you, who lust for metal ore,
Forswear me for a Copperfield.
Rejoice not yet in false bravado
The pimpernel you flung away
Shall torchlike burn your El Dorado.
Vengeance is mine. I will repay.
There is a young gallant named S
a
x
There is a young gallant named Sax
Who is prone to hayfever attacks
For the prime of the year
To Cupid so dear
Stretches maidens - and men! - on their backs.
There’s a monarch who knows no repo
s
e
There’s a monarch who knows no repose
For he’s dressed in a dual trunk hose
And ever there itches
Some part of his breeches;
How he stands it the Lord only knows.
A translation of Felix Beran’s “Des Weibes Klage”
And now is come the war, the war:
And now is come the war, the war:
And now is come the war, the war.
War! War!
For soldiers are they gone now:
For soldiers all.
Soldiers and soldiers!
All! All!
Soldiers must die, must die.
Soldiers all must die.
Soldiers and soldiers and soldiers
Must die.
What man is there to kiss now,
To kiss, to kiss,
O white soft body, this
Thy soft sweet whiteness?
There’s a donor of lavish larges
s
e
There’s a donor of lavish largesse
Who once bought a play in MS
He found out what it all meant
By the final instalment
But poor Scriptor was left in a mess.
There is a clean climber called Syke
s
There is a clean climber called Sykes
Who goes scrambling o’er ditches and dikes,
To skate on his scalp
Down the side of an alp
Is the kind of diversion he likes.
There once was a lounger named Steph
e
n
There once was a lounger named Stephen
Whose youth was most odd and uneven.
He throve on the smell
Of a horrible hell
That a Hottentot wouldn’t believe in.
Now let awhile my messmates be
My ponderous Penelope
And my Ulysses born anew
In Dublin as an Irish jew.
With them I’ll sit, with them I’ll drink
Nor heed what press and pressmen think
Nor leave their rockbound house of joy
For Helen or for windy Troy.