THE wasps were one morning obtrusively gay: Said my true love, "I know what'll speed them away: From a nail, or a chairback, a bottle hang down, And they're 'tree'd' -- the brave varmints that buzz round your crown!" He hath found an old bottle, I cannot say where; He hath bound it with skill to the back of a chair; Full of mild ale so yellow and sugar so brown; And he "tree'd" them by dozens, I bet you a crown. They may talk of their hares, of their rabbits, and all, Such round-headed rascals, in Westminster Hall. But tell legislators, the things to put down Are those queer little imps that encircle one's crown. So here's to their health, when they next travel here: The sugar's unrivalled, resistless the beer: And in peace may they leave us, themselves while they drown In the healthy malt liquor that's sold at the "Crown." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TONE PICTURE (MALIPIERO: IMPRESSONI DAL VERO) by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER LONGING FOR HEAVEN by ANNE BRADSTREET REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE, NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY BOOKS by WILLIAM COWPER THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE by ROBERT SOUTHEY I SHALL LIVE TO BE OLD by SARA TEASDALE THE FORESTERS: NATIONAL SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON SONG by WALTHER VON DER VOGELWEIDE THERE WAS A BOY (VERSION 1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH TO BE CARVED ON A STONE AT THOOR BALLYLEE (1) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |