 | The Collected Songs of Charles Mackay |  |
139
JONES.
I
We sit round the table and pour out the wine,Transforming our crystals to rubies divine;
Then drain them to Freedom, to Friendship, to Worth,
And think ourselves great as the kings of the earth;
When Jones, interrupting, says, “Drinking 's a sin,
“And headache and heartache are drawn from the “bin.”
Fill the goblet again, not with cheers, but with groans:—
Get out of our sunshine, ridiculous Jones!
II
I read the sweet letter my love sent to me,Enclosing a rose from a land o'er the sea;
I press to my fond lips a curl of her hair,
And own that she's loving and good as she's fair;
When Jones, interrupting, says, “Love 's a mistake,
“And women but play with men's hearts till they “break.”
I answer, “Why not, if they're bloodless as stones?—
“Get out of my sunshine, detestable Jones!”
III
My heart glows with hope for the welfare of man;I pray for my fellows, and help when I can;
I see through the distance of ages to be,
The many, grown wiser, made happy and free;
140
“And, if not a tyrant, a fool or a slave.”
I answer, “There's kind human flesh on my bones;—
“Get out of my sunshine, cadaverous Jones!”
| The Collected Songs of Charles Mackay | |