The Merry Bard

1811 –

1863

  ZULEIKAH!  The young Agas in the bazaar are slim-wasted and wear
  yellow slippers.  I am old and hideous.  One of my eyes is out, and
  the hairs of my beard are mostly gray.  Praise be to Allah!  I am a
  merry bard.

  There is a bird upon the terrace of the Emir's chief wife.  Praise
  be to Allah!  He has emeralds on his neck, and a ruby tail.  I am a
  merry bard.  He deafens me with his diabolical screaming.

  There is a little brown bird in the basket-maker's cage.  Praise be
  to Allah!  He ravishes my soul in the moonlight.  I am a merry bard.

  The peacock is an Aga, but the little bird is a Bulbul.

  I am a little brown Bulbul.  Come and listen in the moonlight.
  Praise be to Allah!  I am a merry bard.

This poem is in the public domain.

At the Zoo

First I saw the white bear, then I saw the black;
Then I saw the camel with a hump upon his back;
Then I saw the grey wolf, with mutton in his maw;
Then I saw the wombat waddle in the straw;
Then I saw the elephant a-waving of his trunk;
Then I saw the monkeys—mercy, how unpleasantly they smelt!

William Makepeace Thackeray

1863

Jolly Jack

     When fierce political debate
       Throughout the isle was storming,
     And Rads attacked the throne and state,
       And Tories the reforming,
     To calm the furious rage of each,
       And right the land demented,
     Heaven sent us Jolly Jack, to teach
      The way to be contented.

     Jack's bed was straw, 'twas warm and soft,
       His chair, a three-legged stool;
     His broken jug was emptied oft,
       Yet, somehow, always full.
     His mistress' portrait decked the wall,
       His mirror had a crack;
     Yet, gay and glad, though this was all
       His we

William Makepeace Thackeray

2018

The King of Yvetot

There was a king of Yvetot, Of whom renown hath little said, Who let all thoughts of glory go, And dawdled half his days a-bed; And every night, as night came round, By Jenny, with a nightcap crowned, Slept very sound: Sing ho, ho, ho! and he, he, he! That's the kind of king for me. And every day it came to pass, That four lusty meals made he; And, step by step, upon an ass, Rode abroad, his realms to see; And wherever he did stir, What think you was his escort, sir? Why, an old cur. Sing ho, ho, ho !

William Makepeace Thackeray

2018

Poems

The Merry Bard

More by this poet

At the Zoo

Jolly Jack

The King of Yvetot

Poems

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The Merry Bard

More by this poet

At the Zoo

Jolly Jack

The King of Yvetot

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