GROTESQUES.

I. On a winter’s night long time ago (The bells ring loud and the bells ring low), When high howled wind, and down fell snow (Carillon, Carilla). Saint Joseph he and Nostre Dame, Riding on an ass, full weary came From Nazareth into Bethlehem. And the small child Jesus smile on you. II. And Bethlehem inn they stood before (The bells ring less and the bells ring more), The landlord bade them begone from his door (Carillon, Carilla). “Poor folk” (says he) “must lie where they may, For the Duke of Jewry comes this way, With all his train on a Christmas Day.” And the small child Jesus smile on you. III. Poor folk that may my carol hear (The bells ring single and the bells ring clear), See! God’s one Child had hardest cheer! (Carillon, Carilla). Men grown hard on a Christmas morn; The dumb beast by and a babe forlorn. It was very, very cold when our Lord was born. And the small child Jesus smile on you. IV. Now these were Jews as Jews must be (The bells ring wild and the bells ring free!), But Christian men in a band are we (Carillon, Carilla). Empty we go and ill bedight, Singing Noël on a winter’s night; Give us to sup by the warm firelight. And the small child Jesus smile on you.

The Moon on the one hand, the Dawn on the other; The Moon is my sister, the Dawn is my brother. The Moon on my left, and the Dawn on my right; My Brother, good morning; my Sister, good night.

There was a man was half a clown (It’s so, my father tells of it), He saw the church in Clermont Town, And laughed to hear the bells of it. He laughed to hear the bells that ring In Clermont Church and round of it; He heard the verger’s daughter sing, And loved her for the sound of it. The verger’s daughter said him nay (She had the right of choice in it); He left the town at break of day (He hadn’t had a voice in it). The road went up, the road went down, And there the matter ended it; He broke his heart in Clermont Town, At Pontgibaud they mended it.

The clouds are high and the skies are wide (It’s a weary way to the world’s end). I hear the wind upon a hillside (Over the hills, away). Over the hills and over the sea (It’s a weary way to the world’s end). The woman alone is a-calling me (Over the hills, away). Beyond the rim of the rising moon (It’s a weary way to the world’s end). He’s back too late who starts too soon (Over the hills, away). He’s wise, and he laughs who loves to roam (It’s a weary way to the world’s end); He’s wise and he cries the when he comes home (Over the hills, away). Woman alone, and all alone (It’s a weary way to the world’s end). I’ll just be sitting at home, my own, The world’s a weary way.

Death went into the steeple to ring, And he pulled the rope and he tolled a knell. Fille-la-Haine, how well you sing! Why are they ringing the Passing Bell? Death went into the steeple to ring; Fille-la-Haine, how well you sing! Death went down the stream in a boat, Down the river of Seine went he; Fille-la-Haine had a pain in her throat, Fille-la-Haine was nothing to me. Death went down the stream in a boat; Fille-la-Haine had a pain in her throat. Death went up the hill in a cart (I have forgotten her lips and her laughter). Fille-la-Haine was my sweetheart (And all the village was following after). Death went up the hill in a cart; Fille-la-Haine was my sweetheart.

The Moon is dead. I saw her die. She in a drifting cloud was drest, She lay along the uncertain west, A dream to see. And very low she spake to me: “I go where none may understand, I fade into the nameless land, And there must lie perpetually.” And therefore I, And therefore loudly, loudly I And high And very piteously make cry: “The Moon is dead. I saw her die.” And will she never rise again? The Holy Moon? Oh, never more! Perhaps along the inhuman shore Where pale ghosts are Beyond the far lethean fen She and some wide infernal star— To us who loved her never more, The Moon will never rise again. Oh! never more in nightly sky Her eye so high shall peep and pry To see the great world rolling by. For why? The Moon is dead. I saw her die.

Distinguish carefully between these two, This thing is yours, that other thing is mine. You have a shirt, a brimless hat, a shoe And half a coat. I am the Lord benign Of fifty hundred acres of fat land To which I have a right. You understand? I have a right because I have, because, Because I have—because I have a right. Now be quite calm and good, obey the laws, Remember your low station, do not fight Against the goad, because, you know, it pricks Whenever the uncleanly demos kicks. I do not envy you your hat, your shoe. Why should you envy me my small estate? It’s fearfully illogical in you To fight with economic force and fate. Moreover, I have got the upper hand, And mean to keep it. Do you understand?