Sally: Or can the clock unwind and tell
An earlier time, before we fell
Into this mood of strange ‘alas’,
This mood of pure ‘alas’?
Undertakers: We do not know
We cannot tell
(A bell rings)
We think that was
The dinner bell.
Away, away
Where sunbeams fail to play,
Away
And pass, and pass
Like spiders through the grass,
Alas.
We mourn. We mourn.
Our trouser-legs forlorn
Are torn –
(Exeunt Undertakers)
(c. 1953–7)
Undertaker’s Song (1)
(The four undertakers move down to the floats where they go into a slow, shuffling dance to the accompaniment of strange music. Then, after humming the first note, one after the other, they join hands and sing –)
To our primordial calling
We bring both guile and grace;
(We know our place!)
For what is more appalling
Than fumbling in the face
Of Daddy Death, our treasure-trove,
Who loves to keep us on the move,
(And in the groove)
Heigh-ho! Heigh ho!
The needle’s in the groove.
More, more, let us have more
And more of these morbid mornings –
More… more… than ever before
Of these morticadaverous Warnings…
Ever so care-ful, ever so slow –
Down where the roots of the buttercups go…
More… more… let us have more
Of this lucrative Work of Woe.
Woe… Woe…
More of this Work of Woe.
(c. 1953–7)
Undertaker’s Song (2)
1
Never look eager, friends
Never look spry
It isn’t nice at all to show
The way one’s feelings come and go
Never look eager
Never look spry.
Chorus: Alas poor Percy
2
Never look eager friends
Never look spry
It’s Mr Percy’s death, it is
And suicide’s a dreadful biz
Never look eager
Never look spry
Chorus: Alas poor Percy
(c. 1953–7)
Nannie Slagg’s Song
Never mind
Never mind
Let us see what we can find
One, two, and far away.
You look here
And I’ll look there
Till we find the twisting stair
Three, four, and far away.
Mind the tread that isn’t true
It will surely ‘do’ for you
Five, six and far-away.
(c. 1955)
Fuchsia’s Song
All alone
All alone
Listening to the golden drone,
Golden drone,
Golden drone,
I am living all alone…
(c. 1955)
Nannie Slagg’s Lullaby
Pretty heart be quiet, then
All the tigers have gone home,
Every beast is in his den,
Not a fly can do you harm,
Float away,
Float away,
Pretty one to dreamland.
(c. 1955)
Where the Little Dunderhead
Where the little dunderhead
Gobbled daisies with his bread
There is now a little grave
Teaching children to behave.
(c. 1955)
From Figures of Speech. The Key to the drawing is on p. 234.
Lean Sideways on the Wind
Lean sideways on the wind, and if it bears
Your weight you are a Daughter of the Dawn:
If not – pick up your carcass, dry your tears,
Brush down your dress – for that sweet elfin horn
You thought you heard was from no fairyland –
Rather it flooded through the kitchen floor,
From where your Uncle Eustace and his band
Of flautists turn my cellar, more and more
Into a place of hollow and decay:
That is my theory, darling, anyway.
(after 1957)
Of Pygmies, Palms and Pirates
Of pygmies, palms and pirates,
Of islands and lagoons,
Of blood-bespattered frigates,
Of crags and Octoroons,
Of whales and broken bottles,
Of quicksands cold and grey,
Of ullages and dottles,
I have no more to say.
Of barley, corn and furrows,
Of farms and turf that heaves
Above such ghostly burrows
As twitch on summer eves
Of fallow-land and pasture,
Of skies both pink and grey,
I made a statement last year
And have no more to say.
(after 1957)
An Angry Cactus Does No Good
An angry cactus does no good
To flowers in a pensive mood
It riles them something horrible –
O wellaway – keep well away
The whole affair’s deplorable
As one might say.
But take the humble spinach flower,
That lifts its whiskers to the shower
As ’twere a kind of benison
O welladay; keep well away –
It quotes the work of Tennyson,
The livelong day.
(after 1957)
I Cannot Give the Reasons
I cannot give the Reasons,
I only sing the Tunes:
The sadness of the Seasons,
The madness of the Moons.
I cannot be didactic
Or lucid, but I can
Be quite obscure and practic-
Ally marzipan
In gorgery and gushness
And all that’s squishified
My voice has all the lushness
Of what I can’t abide
And yet it has a beauty
Most proud and terrible
Denied to those whose duty
Is to be cerebral!
Among the antlered mountains
I make my viscous way
And watch the sepia fountains
Throw up their lime-green spray.
(after 1957)
From Figures of Speech. The Key to the drawing is on p. 234.
O Little Fly
O little fly! delightful fly!
Perch on my wrist again:
Then rub your legs and dry your eye,
And climb my fist again:
For surely, here, the atmosphere
Is somehow right and good for you.
I love you most, when as your host
I’m in the mood for you.
(after 1957)
How Fly the Birds of Heaven
How fly the birds of heaven save by their wings?
How tread the stags, those huge and hairy kings
Save by their feet? How do the fishes turn
In their wet purlieus where the mermaids yearn
Save by their tails? How does the plantain sprout
Save by that root it cannot do without?
I hope that I have made my meaning clear…
(after 1957)
From Figures of Speech. The Key to the drawing is on p. 234.
Leave the Stronger
Leave the stronger
And the lesser
Things to me!
Lest that Conger
Named Vanessa
Who is longer
Than a dresser
Visits thee
He is slippery,
He is hardy,
He is hardly ever
Tardy,
He can count
From one to three
Leave the stronger
And the lesser
Things to me!
(after 1957)
Fish or Fowl
Fish or fowl, it’s all the same
To me, all’s one – and two
And three
For I am now
Proclaimed and sworn
The sorriest cow
Of Capricorn
My scales are pink
My eyes are black
My feathers flutter
Down my back –
The firelight fails
To comfort me
All’s one – all’s two
And sometimes
Three.
(after 1957)
‘Shrink! Shrink!’
‘Shrink! Shrink!’ said I
‘But why?’ she cried
‘Do as I bid you,’
I replied
And as she once
Had promised she
Would both obey
And honour me
Just me! most just
And holy me
She shrank a bit
For me to see
‘More! More!’ I said
‘That’s not enough
I want you wrinkled up
Like duff
‘For I am tired
Of your smooth skin
I want you wrinkled up
Like sin’
She then complied,
And when I saw
Her chin was tapping
On the floor
I said ‘Enough!
Now you can go
To your Mamma
And tell her so.’
(after 1957)
An Old and Crumbling Parapet
An old and crumbling parapet
Arose out of the dancing sea –
And on its top there sat a flea
For reasons which I quite forget.
But as the sun descended, and
The moon uprose across the sky
We were alone, the flea and I,
And so I took it by the hand
And whispered, ‘On your parapet
D’you think that there’d be room for me?’
‘I cannot say,’ replied the flea.
‘I’m studying the Alphabet –’
But that was long ago, and Saints
Have died since then – and Ogres bled.
And purple tigers flopped down dead
Among the pictures and the paints.
(after 1957)
From Figures of Speech. The Key to the drawing is on p. 234.
It Is Most Best
It is most best,
Most very best,
To frown upon a welcome guest –
To frown and weep –
O lackaday!
Then to tie him to a hornet’s nest
And steal away.
It may be he is nice
And mild
And welcome to a little child:
It well may be – O lackaday!
So leave him where
The wasps are wild,
And steal away.
(after 1957)
The Hours of Night Are Drawing On
The hours of night are drawing on
Their drawers of dark grey wool…
The hours of day are dead and gone
According to the rule
(after 1957)
From Figures of Speech. The Key to the drawing is on p. 234.
Over the Pig-Shaped Clouds They Flew
Over the pig-shaped clouds they flew
Eagles with eyes as dry as dew
And talons sharp as batter –
O very peculiar birds! they blew
From where? It doesn’t matter.
(after 1957)
Come, Break the News to Me, Sweet Horse!
1
‘Come, break the news to me, Sweet Horse
Do you not think it best?
Or if you’d rather not – of course
We’ll let the matter rest.’
The biggest Horse that ever wore
His waistcoat inside out,
Replied: ‘As I have sneezed before,
There’s not a shade of doubt.’
3
‘I find your answer rare, Sweet Horse,
Though hardly crystal clear,
But tell me true, what kind of course
Do you propose to steer?’
4
The biggest horse that ever wore
His waistcoat outside in –
Rolled over on the parquet floor,
And kissed me on the chin.
5
‘O this is loveable,’ I cried,
‘And rather touching too,
Although I generally prefer
A lick of fish-bone glue.’
6
The only Horse who ever Kissed
Me smack athwart the chin
Curled up and died. He will be missed
By all who cherished Him.
(after 1957)
What Though My Jaw
What though my jaw be long and blue –
Were not the strong Toledo blades
Famous for this?
What though my nose be set askew
So are the Knives of Sheffield too
And proud of it
(after 1957)
The Trouble with Geraniums
The trouble with geraniums
Is that they’re much too red!
The trouble with my toast is that
It’s far too full of bread.
The trouble with a diamond
Is that it’s much too bright:
The same applies to fish and stars,
And the electric light
The trouble with the crows I see
Lies in the way they fly;
The trouble with myself is all
Self-centred in the eye.
The trouble with my looking-glass
Is that it shows me, me:
There’s trouble in all sorts of things
Where it should never be.
(after 1957)
Crocodiles
She stared at him as hard as she
Could stare, but not a single blush
Suffused his face like dawn at sea
Or roses in a bush –
For Crocodiles are very slow
At taking hints because their hide’s
So thick it never feels de trop,
And tender like a bride’s.
(after 1957)
Along the Cold, Regurgitating Shore
Along the cold, regurgitating
Shore we paced,
My arm around her irritating
Wasp-like waist…
She liked it so…
(after 1957)
I Have My Price
I have my price: it’s rather high –
(About the level of your eye),
But if you’re nice to me, I’ll try
To lower it for you –
To lower it; to lower it;
Upon the kind of rope they knit
From yellow grass and purple hay
When knitting is taboo –
Some knit them pearl, some knit them plain –
Some knit their brows of pearl in vain
Some are so plain they try again
To tease the wool of love!
But ah! the palms of yesterday –
There’s not a soul from yesterday
Who’s worth the dreaming of – they say –
Who’s worth the dreaming of…
(after 1957)
Jehovah, Jehovah
Jehovah, Jehovah,
Who landed at Dover
With a twelve foot beard
And a dog named Rover.
(late 1950s)
From Figures of Speech. The Key to the drawing is on p. 234.
From Figures of Speech. The Key to the drawing is on p. 234.
Synopsis
Over the Border
or
The Adventures of Footfruit
Footfruit, a healthy, happy man, crosses the border from the wilderness.
He is approached by an official, who seems to have risen out of the dust at his feet.