Songs Of The Road
- Language
- EN
- Format
- EPUB
- Size
- 128 KB
Description
Songs Of The Road is a collection of poetic works by Arthur Conan Doyle, composed in the early 20th century. The volume features a variety of verse forms, including narrative poems, philosophical compositions, and miscellaneous pieces. The themes examined encompass love, nature, duty, and human experience, reflecting the social and cultural shifts of the period. Some poems address topics such as the struggles of empire, the nostalgia for lost love, and observations of everyday life, demonstrating Doyle's engagement with contemporary concerns and personal reflections. The collection combines storytelling with introspective poetry, capturing moods and ideas relevant to the social landscape of the time. Its diverse content exemplifies Doyle’s poetic craftsmanship and his interest in exploring both societal and individual themes through verse.
From the opening pages
(Being a Sequel to "The Groom's Story" in "Songs of Action") Not tired of 'earin' stories! You're a nailer, so you are! I thought I should 'ave choked you off with that 'ere motor-car. Well, mister, 'ere's another; and, mind you, it's a fact, Though you'll think perhaps I copped it out o' some blue ribbon tract. It was in the days when farmer men were jolly-faced and stout, For all the cash was comin' in and little goin' out, But now, you see, the farmer men are 'ungry-faced and thin, For all the cash is goin' out and little comin' in. But in the days I'm speakin' of, before the drop in wheat, The life them farmers led was such as couldn't well be beat; They went the pace amazin', they 'unted and they shot, And this 'ere Jeremiah Brown the liveliest of the lot. 'E was a fine young fellar; the best roun' 'ere by far, But just a bit full-blooded, as fine young fellars are; Which I know they didn't ought to, an' it's very wrong of course, But the colt wot never capers makes a mighty useless 'orse. The lad was never vicious, but 'e made the money go, For 'e was ready with 'is "yes," and back- ward with 'is "no." And so 'e turned to drink which is the avenoo to 'ell, An' 'ow 'e came to stop 'imself is wot' I 'ave to tell. Four days on end 'e never knew 'ow 'e 'ad got to bed, Until one mornin' fifty clocks was tickin' in 'is 'ead, And on the same the doctor came, "You're very near D.T., If you don't stop yourself, young chap, you'll pay the price," said 'e. "It takes the form of visions, as I fear you'll quickly know; Perhaps a string o' monkeys, all a-sittin' in a row, Perhaps it's frogs or beetles, perhaps it's rats or mice, There are many sorts of visions and there's none of 'em is nice." But Brown 'e started laughin': "No doctor's muck," says 'e, "A take-'em-break-'em gallop is the only cure for me! They 'unt to-day down 'Orsham way. Bring round the sorrel mare, If them monkeys come inquirin' you can send 'em on down there." Well, Jeremiah rode to 'ounds, exactly as 'e said. But all the time the doctor's words were ringin' in 'is 'ead — "If you don't…
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