'The true Soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because He loves what is behind him.' -G. K. Chesterton

28 April 2013

Sunday Kipling

Lu and MIL had their big yard sake yesterday. Angus and I mostly tried to stay out of the way. After lifting heavy objects of course. After it was some of my special Del Monte Express burgers. Yummy! Angus is getting on well. I'm working on my creative writing and I have a story brewing about Angus, horses, cows and goats.

I hope this day finds you all hale and happy. Life is far too short to spend it miserable and alone. Trust is a hard earned prize but when won it is the sweetest nectar.

I am feeling a little risque today. Kipling was a bit of a rogue don't you know.


Pink Dominoes

 They are fools who kiss and tell" 
   Wisely has the poet sung.
 Man may hold all sorts of posts
   If he'll only hold his tongue.

Jenny and Me were engaged, you see,
  On the eve of the Fancy Ball;
So a kiss or two was nothing to you
  Or any one else at all.

Menny would go in a domino 
  Pretty and pink but warm;
While I attended, clad in a splendid
  Austrian uniform.

Now we had arranged, through notes exchanged
  Early that afternoon,
At Number Four to waltz no more,
  But to sit in the dusk and spoon.

I wish you to see that Jenny and Me
  Had barely exchanged our troth;
So a kiss or two was strictly due
  By, from, and between us both.

When Three was over, an eager lover,
  I fled to the gloom outside;
And a Domino came out also
  Whom I took for my future bride.

That is to say, in a casual way,
  I slipped my arm around her;
With a kiss or two (which is nothing to you),
  And ready to kiss I found her.

She turned her head and the name she said
  Was certainly not my own;
But ere I could speak, with a smothered shriek
  She fled and left me alone.

Then Jenny came, and I saw with shame
  She'd doffed her domino;
And I had embraced an alien waist 
  But I did not tell her so.

Next morn I knew that there were two
  Dominoes pink, and one
Had cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian Vouse,
  Our big Political gun.

Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold,
  And her eye was a blue cerulean;
And the name she said when she turned her head
  Was not in the least like "Julian."
Added per Tierlieb who I suspect is a Kipling aficionado. 
You're right. It does bring it together.
Now wasn't it nice, 
when want of price
Forbade us twain to marry,
That old Sir J., 
in the kindest way, 
Made me his Secretary


Tierlieb said...

Is there a reason for leaving out the last stanza? It does change the meaning a bit.

Now wasn't it nice, when want of pice
Forbade us twain to marry,
That old Sir J., in the kindest way,
Made me his Secretarry ?

RabidAlien said...

LOL Now that's funny!

Six said...

For some reason my copy does not have that last stanza in it Tierlieb. And you're right, it really does tie the thing together. Thanks! I've added it and credited you.

I agree RA.

Old NFO said...

Yep, dirty old man... :-)