This item is
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Publicly Available
and licensed under:Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Files for this item
Download all local files for this item (8.17 KB)
- Name
- housman1509.txt
- Size
- 3.88 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
A. E. Housman
TERENCE, THIS IS STUPID STUFF
"Terence, this is stupid stuff:
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
It gives a chap the belly-ache.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
It sleeps well, the horned head:
We poor lads, 'tis our turn now
To hear such tunes as killed the cow.
Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping melancholy mad:
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad."
Why, if 'tis dancing you would be,
There's brisker pipes than poetry.
Say, for what were hop-yards meant,
Or why was Burton built on Trent?
Oh many a peer of England brew . . .
