Posts tagged with “Coleridge”
The Ancient Smoker (A Parody)
Part I - The Curse
He is an ancient smoker, he stoppeth 'neath a tree
With thy long black pipe and glittering eye,
"Wherefore though stoppeth thee?"
The Public Bar is open wide, within a merry din,
The youth accosts the ancient soul "Thou can'st not go within!"
"I have the curse", the old man sighed
"Bin coming here for years,
My pipe and baccy both are banned",
The old man glared, the old man spake,
"Yet I will go within!
By God I'll fight for my right!"
"A pint", he quoth and settled in his place
The taproom glowed, the good beer flowed
Joy shone in his face, the din did grow
The banter flew, he joined that merry crew.
He struck his match, he puffed his pipe
The smoke was thick and strong
The banter dropped, the door flew wide,
A curse came from the throng
The barmaid shrieked, the landlord cried
"Thou can'st not do that 'ere!"
The banter stopped, the silence grew,
His curse was in his hand;
Now 'twas an angry crew
"Be gone! Get out! You're banned!
God save the Ancient Smoker
From the curse that plagues thee thus";
Sadly he slipped his moorings and crept into the night
The laughter grew the jibes flew too
He was a sorry sight
Part II - The Return of the Ancient Smoker
When he joins the Nick O' Tyne Line
Her masts the finest briars
See, she is Rizla rigged
Her crew all true born liars.
She sailed across the harbour bar
And nestled by the quay
He leapt aboard her crying
"I'm going back to sea!
Far from this land
Where smoking's banned
I'll smoke my pipe as is my right!"
They cast off and sailed away
Not to come back for many a day
To do their duty, not to pay it.
Part III - The Voyage of the Good Ship Nic O' Tyne
A fair wind blew, o'er the waves they flew
Leaving the land behind, they gave a cheer
He lit his pipe and drawing deep
He took a swig of beer
The silver moon sailed in the sky
Softly she was going up
And a star or two besides
His lips were wet, his throat was cold,
His garments all were dank
He was drinking as he slept
And still his body drank.
The helmsman steered, the ship moved on,
A steady breeze still blew,
The mariners all gan work the ropes
As they were wont to do
They were a merry crew.
Like a flying horse they flew
Acorss the boundless Ocean
The sun shone bright, a fair wind blew,
They smoked and drank all day.
They drifted o'er the harbour bar
The rock shone bright, the kirk no less
That stands above the rock
The Harbour Bay was clear as glass
So smoothly was it strewn
In the bay all was dark
in the shadow of the moon
thus they quietly slipped ashore
Stowing their goods in a safe place
Crept out and locked the door
To Follow; Part IV - The return of the Happy Smoker
John Charles Wrighton, 2008.
(He only gave me the text thus far, having mislaid further pages, which he might post me at some future date!)
03:09 PM | 2 Comments | Tags: father, smoking, Coleridge, parody