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Стихотворения

Джойс Джеймс

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Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

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Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

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Автомобили и ПДД

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Фольклор

Военное дело

Последние комментарии

оксана2018-11-27

Вообще, я больше люблю новинки литератур

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Professor2018-11-27

Очень понравилась книга. Рекомендую!

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Vera.Li2016-02-21

Миленько и простенько, без всяких интриг

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ст.ст.2018-05-15

И что это было?

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Наталья222018-11-27

Сюжет захватывающий. Все-таки читать кни

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Стихотворения - Джойс Джеймс - Страница 21

Изменить размер шрифта:

Я лапы жала всем месье и дамам всех мастей,

Хозяйке помогал мужик рассаживать гостей,

Затем приветствие она прочла в экстазе жарком,

Что главный кочет их страны прислал своим пуляркам.

Все навалились на еду — ну, люди! вот так прыть!

Меня объели дочиста, не дав и закусить,

И жрали аж до петухов, а после с пеньем бравым

Мою печенку разыскать пытались по канавам.

Посылка:

И все ж — за Галлию, друзья, и чтоб нам без забот

В ее курятнике жилось весь следующий год.

Скорее соус передай, гусак, своей гусыне

И, о печенке позабыв, возвеселися ныне!

(Ноябрь 1937)

Стихи из «Поминок по Финнегану»

THE BALLAD OF PERSSE O'REILLY

Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty

How he fell with a roll and a rumble

And curled up like Lord Olofa Crumple

By the butt of the Magazine Wall,

(Chorus) Of the Magazine Wall,

Hump, helmet and all?

He was one time our King of the Castle

Now he's kicked about like a rotten old parsnip.

And from Green street he'll be sent by order of His Worship

To the penal jail of Mountjoy

(Chorus) To the jail of Mountjoy!

Jail him and joy.

He was fafafather of all schemes for to bother us

Slow coaches and immaculate contraceptives for

the populace,

Mare's milk for the sick, seven dry Sundays a week,

Openair love and religion's reform,

(Chorus) And religious reform,

Hideous in form.

Arrah, why, says you, couldn't he manage it?

I'll go bail, my fine dairyman darling,

Like the bumping bull of the Cassidys

All your butter is in your horns.

(Chorus) His butter is in his horns.

Butter his horns!

(Repeat) Hurrah there, Hosty, frosty Hosty, change that shirt

[on ye,

Rhyme the rann, the king of all ranns!

Balbaccio, balbuccio!

We had chaw chaw chops, chairs, chewing gum, the chicken —

[pox and china chambers

Universally provided by this soffsoaping salesman.

Small wonder He'll Cheat E'erawan our local lads

nicknamed him

When Chimpden first took the floor

(Chorus) With his bucketshop store

Down Bargainweg, Lower.

So snug he was in his hotel premises sumptuous

But soon we'll bonfire all his trash, tricks and trumpery

And' tis short till sheriff Clancy'll be winding up his unlimited

[company

With the bailiff's bom at the door,

(Chorus) Bimbam at the door.

Then he'll bum no more.

Sweet bad luck on the waves washed to our island

The hooker of that hammerfast viking

And Gall's curse on the day when Eblana bay

Saw his black and tan man-o'-war.

(Chorus) Saw his man-o'-war.

On the harbour bar.

Where from? roars Poolbeg. Cookingha'pence, he bawls Donnez

[moi scampitle, wick an wipin'fampiny

Fingal Mac Oscar Onesine Bargearse Boniface

Thok's min gammelhole Norveegickers moniker

Og as ay are at gammelhore Norveegickers cod.

(Chorus) A Norwegian camel old cod.

He is, begod.

Lift it, Hosty, lift it, ye devil ye! up with the rann, the rhyming

[rann!

It was during some fresh water garden pumping

Or, according to the Nursing Mirror, while admiring the mon —

[keys

That our heavyweight heathen Humpharey

Made bold a maid to woo

(Chorus) Woohoo, what'll she doo!

The general lost her maidenloo!

He ought to blush for himself, the old hayheaded philosopher

For to go and shove himself that way on top of her

Begob, he's the crux of the catalogue

Of our antediluvial zoo,

(Chorus) Messrs. Billing and Coo.

Noah's larks, good as noo.

He was joulting by Wellinton's monument

Our rotorious hippopopotamuns

When some bugger let down the backtrap of the omnibus

And lie caught his death of fusiliers,

(Chorus) With his rent in his rears.

Give him six years.