Read Complete Works of James Joyce Online
Authors: Unknown
Complete Works of James Joyce (334 page)
Have you heard of one Humpty Dump
t
y
Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty
How he fell with a roll and a rumble
And lay low like Low All of a crumple
By the butt of the Magazine’s Wall?
Dear quick, whose conscience buried deep
The grim old grouser has been salving,
Permit one spectre more to peep.
I am the ghost of Captain Alving.
Silenced and smothered by my past
Like the lewd knight in dirty linen
I struggle forth to swell the cast
And air a long-suppressed opinion.
For muddling weddings into wakes
No fool could vie with Parson Manders.
I, though a dab at ducks and drakes,
Let gooseys serve or sauce their ganders.
My spouse bore me a blighted boy,
Our slavey pupped a bouncing bitch.
Paternity, thy name is joy
When the wise sire knows which is which.
Both swear I am that selfsame man
By whom their infants were begotten.
Explain, fate, if you care and can
Why one is sound and one is rotten.
Olaf may plod his stony path
And live as chastely as Susanna
Yet pick up in some Turkish bath
His
quantum est
of
Pox Romana.
While Haakon hikes up primrose way,
Spreeing and gleeing as he goes,
To smirk upon his latter day
Without a pimple on his nose.
I gave it up I am afraid
But if I loafed and found it fun
Remember how a coyclad maid
Knows how to take it out of one.
The more I dither on and drink
My midnight bowl of spirit punch
The firmlier I feel and think
Friend Manders came too oft to lunch.
Since scuttling ship Vikings like me
Reck not to whom the blame is laid,
Y.M.C.A., V.D., T.B.
Or Harbourmaster of Port-Said.
Blame all and none and take to task
The harlot’s lure, the swain’s desire.
Heal by all means but hardly ask
Did this man sin or did his sire.
The shack’s ablaze. That canting scamp,
The carpenter, has dished the parson.
Now had they kept their powder damp
Like me there would have been no arson.
Nay more, were I not all I was,
Weak, wanton, waster out and out,
There would have been no world’s applause
And damn all to write home about.
Goodbye, Zurich, I must leave y
o
u
Goodbye, Zurich, I must leave you,
Though it breaks my heart to shreds
Tat then attat.
Something tells me I am needed
In Paree to hump the beds.
Bump! I hear the trunks a tumbling
And I’m frantic for the fray.
Farewell,
dolce far niente!
Goodbye, Zurichesee!
Le bon repos
Des Espagneux
Et les roseaux
d’Annecy
Leurrent notre âme
Et nous nous pâmons
Pour une Paname
Loin d’ici
Tirons nos grègues
Faisons nos mègues
Prenons le trègue
Et filons là!
Too hot to go on . . .
Aiutami dunque, O Musa, nitidissima Calligraph
i
a
Aiutami dunque, O Musa, nitidissima Calligraphia
Forbisci la forma e lo stil e frena lo stilo ribelle!
Mesci il limpide suon e distilla il liquido senso
E sulla rena riarsa, deh!, scuoti lungo il ramo!
Come all you lairds and ladies and listen to my lay!
I’ll tell of my adventures upon last Thanksgiving Day
I was picked by Madame Jolas to adorn the barbecue
So the chickenchoker patched me till I looked as good as new.
I drove out, all tarred and feathered, from the Grand Palais Potin
But I met with foul disaster in the Place Saint Augustin.
My charioteer collided - with the shock I did explode
And the force of my emotions shot my liver on the road.
Up steps a dapper sergeant with his pencil and his book.
Our names and our convictions down in Leber’s code he took.
Then I hailed another driver and resumed my swanee way.
They couldn’t find my liver but I hadn’t time to stay.
When we reached the gates of Paris cries the boss at the Octroi:
Holy Poule, what’s this I’m seeing? Can it be Grandmother Loye?
When Caesar got the bird she was the dindy of the flock
But she must have boxed a round or two with some old turkey cock.
I ruffled up my plumage and proclaimed with eagle’s pride:
You jackdaw, these are truffles and not blues on my backside.
Mind, said he, that one’s a chestnut. There’s my bill and here’s my thanks
And now please search through your stuffing and fork out that fifty francs.
At last I reached the banquet-hall - and what a sight to see!
I felt myself transported back among the Osmanli.
I poured myself a bubbly flask and raised the golden horn
With three cheers for good old Turkey and the roost where I was born.
I shook claws with all the hammers and bowed to blonde and brune,
The mistress made a signal and the mujik called the tune.
Madamina read a message from the Big Noise of her State
After which we crowed in unison: That Turco’s talking straight!
We settled down to feed and, if you want to know my mind,
I thought that I could gobble but they left me picked behind,
They crammed their crops till cockshout when like ostriches they ran
To hunt my missing liver round the Place Saint Augustin.
Still I’ll lift my glass to Gallia and augur that we may
Untroubled in her dovecot dwell till next Thanksgiving Day
So let every Gallic gander pass the sauceboat to his goose —
And let’s all play happy homing though our liver’s on the loose.
There’s a maevusmarked maggot called Murp
h
y
There’s a maevusmarked maggot called Murphy
Who would fain be thought thunder-and-turfy.
When he’s out to be chic he
Sticks on his gum dicky
And worms off for a breeze by the surfy.
Are you not weary of ardent ways
I only ask you to give me your fair hands
Scalding tears shall not avail
We will leave the village behind
After the tribulation of dark strife
Told sublimely in the language
Love that I can give you, lady
Though there is no resurrection from the past
And I have sat amid the turbulent crowd
Gorse-flower makes but sorry dining
That I am feeble, that my feet
The grieving soul. But no grief is thine
Let us fling to the winds all moping and madness
Hands that soothe my burning eyes
Requiem eternam dona ei, Domine
Of thy dark life, without a love, without a friend
Some are comely and some are sour
O, it is cold and still - alas!
She is at peace where she is sleeping
I said: I will go down to where
Though we are leaving youth behind
Come out to where youth is met
Watching the Needleboats at San Sabba
A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight
There was an old lady named Gregory
There was a young priest named Delaney
There is a weird poet called Russell
There once was a Celtic librarian
O, there are two brothers, the Fays
C’era una volta, una bella bambina
The flower I gave rejected lies
There is a young gallant named Sax
There’s a monarch who knows no repose
There’s a donor of lavish largesse
There is a clean climber called Sykes
There once was a lounger named Stephen
Now let awhile my messmates be