Lapsus Calami (Aug 1891)/The Grand Old Pipe
For other versions of this work, see The Grand Old Pipe.
The Grand Old Pipe.
I have ceased to believe in the Leader
Whom I loved in the days of my youth:
Is he, or am I the seceder?
It were hard to determine the truth.
But my enmity is not impassioned:
I'll forgive and forget if I can,
And I'm smoking a pipe which is fashioned
Like the face of the Grand Old Man.
Whom I loved in the days of my youth:
Is he, or am I the seceder?
It were hard to determine the truth.
But my enmity is not impassioned:
I'll forgive and forget if I can,
And I'm smoking a pipe which is fashioned
Like the face of the Grand Old Man.
It was made in the days when his collars
Were still of the usual size,
And before the recipients of dollars
Were known as his trusted allies:
But I love, as I lounge in the garden,
Or work at my chambers, to gaze
At the face of the master of Hawarden,
As he was in the Grand Old Days.
Were still of the usual size,
And before the recipients of dollars
Were known as his trusted allies:
But I love, as I lounge in the garden,
Or work at my chambers, to gaze
At the face of the master of Hawarden,
As he was in the Grand Old Days.
My pipe was my one consolation
When its antitype kindled the flame
Which threatened the brave population
Of Ulster with ruin and shame:
I forgot that our ruler was dealing
With scamps of the Sheridan type,
While the true orange colour was stealing
O'er the face of my Grand Old Pipe.
When its antitype kindled the flame
Which threatened the brave population
Of Ulster with ruin and shame:
I forgot that our ruler was dealing
With scamps of the Sheridan type,
While the true orange colour was stealing
O'er the face of my Grand Old Pipe.
Did his conduct grow ever absurder
Till no remnant of reason seemed left?
Did he praise the professors of murder?
Does he preach the evangel of theft?
When he urges our eloquent neighbours
To keep other men's land in their gripe,
Grows he black in his face with his labours?
Well, so does my Grand Old Pipe.
Till no remnant of reason seemed left?
Did he praise the professors of murder?
Does he preach the evangel of theft?
When he urges our eloquent neighbours
To keep other men's land in their gripe,
Grows he black in his face with his labours?
Well, so does my Grand Old Pipe.
For the sake of its excellent savour,
For the many sweet smokes of the past,
My pipe keeps its hold on my favour,
Tho' now it is blackening fast:
And, remembering how long he has striven,
And the merits he used to possess,
And his fall, let him now be forgiven,
Though he has made a Grand Old Mess.
For the many sweet smokes of the past,
My pipe keeps its hold on my favour,
Tho' now it is blackening fast:
And, remembering how long he has striven,
And the merits he used to possess,
And his fall, let him now be forgiven,
Though he has made a Grand Old Mess.