This precipice was for this cataract made.
Twelve thousand fathoms from this verge it is
To where below me spread the plains of Phiz.
The sunset tinges my fair growth and I
Am almost crumpled up with ecstasy.
(early 1930s)
You Before Me
You before me
Except after tea
Is my creed and my motto
(My wife calls me Otto)
(early 1930s)
Although I Love Him
Although I love him and could never find
It in my heart to chasten him, I see
No way to comprehend him, nor am blind
To his ungainly posturings at tea
(early 1930s)
From Figures of Speech. The Key to the drawing is on p. 234.
Practically Poetry
He must be an artist…
Look at his shirt!
He must be a genius…
Look at the dirt!
My deah! How too thrilling!
My deah! What a shriek!!
His work must be brilliant…
Just look at his beard…
So to speak.
(December 1934)
Ode to a Bowler
Oh, Hat that cows the spirit!
…If any spirit be…
First cousin to the Black Cap
And sign of slavery!
Funereal and horrible…
But this at least I owe it;
It matches to a nicety
The Face that Sits Below It!
(December 1934)
Raft Song of the Conger Eel
Strangul’m, scragle’m
Scrunch’m
One – two and away.
Batter’m, shatter’m
Gut’m and groans
Red of the blood in the spray.
One – two,
And away.
Throttle’m, bottle’m
Cut’m a rip
Three – four and away.
Plunder’m, thunder’m
Into a ship
Red of the blood in the spray.
Five – six,
And away.
(c. 1933–6)
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.
The Dwarf of Battersea
Ye olde Ballade concerning ye yellow dwarfe of Battersea being a
true and tru∫tworthy account of hi∫ death
at ye hand of ye repul∫ive artift Master Mervyn Peake when
defending ye gloriously beautiful and beguiling charmer Maeve in
the year of Our Lord 1937.
For ye benefit of pre∫ent-day readers, ye famouse olde Ballade
has been re-spel∫t according to modern fa∫sion.
Please turn over
1
There lived a dwarf in Battersea
(O lend me a tanner!)
There lived a dwarf in Battersea
Whose hands were white with leprosy
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river runs away.
2
At dead of night he crept to see
(O lend me a tanner!)
At dead of night he crept to see
What he could see at 163!
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river rolls away.
3
And there he saw a maiden fair
(O lend me a tanner!)
And there he saw a maiden fair
With tawny eyes and tawny hair
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river runs away.
4
Then through the letterbox he crept
(O lend me a tanner!)
Then through the letterbox he crept
To where the golden lady slept
(Sing you-O, for me-O)
And the river rolls away.
5
He gave a most disgusting croak
(O lend me a tanner!)
He gave a most disgusting croak
At which the sleeping one awoke.
(Sing you-O, for me-O)
And the river runs away.
6
The dwarf hissed through his pointed teeth
(O lend me a tanner!)
The dwarf hissed through his pointed teeth
And drew a skewer from its sheath
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river rolls away.
7
But look! A creature high above
(O lend me a tanner!)
But see! A creature high above
Has singed the yellow wall with love!
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river runs away.
8
And like the story tales of yore
(O lend me a tanner!)
And like the story tales of yore
This creature leaps upon the floor
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river rolls away.
9
O he came sailing through the air
(O lend me a tanner!)
O he came sailing through the air
For what man dareth he will dare
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river runs away.
10
His hair was dark his lips were fat
(O lend me a tanner!)
His hair was dark his lips were fat
He wore a greeny yellow hat
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river rolls away.
11
He thrust a paintbrush through the dwarf
(O lend me a tanner!)
He thrust a paintbrush through the dwarf
And shouted with a grisly larf…
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river rolls away.
12
‘Get in this tin of linseed oil!’
(O lend me a tanner!)
‘Get in this tin of linseed oil
Before I put it on to boil!’
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river runs away.
13
The dwarf turned white but did as bid
(O lend me a tanner!)
The dwarf turned white but did as bid
And then they fastened down the lid
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river runs away.
14
They danced a tango up and down
(O lend me a tanner!)
They danced a tango up and down
Until the yellow dwarf went brown
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river rolls away.
15
Until the yellow dwarf went black
(O lend me a tanner!)
Until the yellow dwarf went black
And then they laid him on his back
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river runs away.
16
Until the yellow dwarf went red
(O lend me a tanner!)
Until the yellow dwarf went red
And then they stood him on his head!
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river rolls away.
17
And sent him down the Thames afloat
(O lend me a tanner!)
And sent him down the Thames afloat
Within a papier-maché boat
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river rolls away.
18
So one and all beware who wish
(O lend me a tanner!)
So one and all beware who wish
Within the sacred pool to fish!
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river runs away.
19
And all beware who wish to see
(O lend me a tanner!)
And all beware who hope to see
The golden light of
163
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river rolls away!
20
There lived a dwarf in Battersea
(O lend me a tanner!)
There lived a dwarf in Battersea
But he has now passed over see
And where is he? O don’t ask me!
(Sing you-O, to me-O)
And the river rolls away
A way
And the river rolls away.
(1937)
Thank God for a Tadpole
Thank God for a tadpole!
At a time like this
Thank God for a tadpole
That loses its tail,
But never its head
On the foul river bed
It wiggles its tail
(But never its head)
Not a crab or a dog
Or an indian hog
But a beautiful frog
(28 August 1939)
About My Ebb and Flow-ziness
About my ebb and flow-ziness
I must conserve my brain
And live in warmth and cosiness
Until I feel the pain.
Why irritate the present tense
The past is over now!
The future hasn’t come! Have sense
And let the taffrail go.
(c. 1939)
A Fair Amount of Doziness
A fair amount of doziness
Is exquisite to me
My sister’s paltry nosiness
About my ebb and floziness
Of consciousness
Is obvious-
Ly arrant jealousy.
(c. 1939)
Ancient Root O Ancient Root
Ancient Root O Ancient Root
What a wild barbaric loot
Is this I claim, in finding Thee
The King of Horrible Fantasy
Ancient One, O Ancient One
Lives there aught beneath the Sun
So wrinkled, hideous, and so
Entirely unabashed, as thou?
(c. 1939)
The Frivolous Cake
A freckled and frivolous cake there was
That sailed on a pointless sea,
Or any lugubrious lake there was
In a manner emphatic and free.
How jointlessly, and how jointlessly
The frivolous cake sailed by
On the waves of the ocean that pointlessly
Threw fish to the lilac sky.
Oh, plenty and plenty of hake there was
Of a glory beyond compare,
And every conceivable make there was
Was tossed through the lilac air.
Up the smooth billows and over the crests
Of the cumbersome combers flew
The frivolous cake with a knife in the wake
Of herself and her curranty crew.
Like a swordfish grim it would bounce and skim
(This dinner knife fierce and blue),
And the frivolous cake was filled to the brim
With the fun of her curranty crew.
Oh, plenty and plenty of hake there was
Of a glory beyond compare –
And every conceivable make there was
Was tossed through the lilac air.
Around the shores of the Elegant Isles
Where the cat-fish bask and purr
And lick their paws with adhesive smiles
And wriggle their fins of fur,
They fly and fly ’neath the lilac sky –
The frivolous cake, and the knife
Who winketh his glamorous indigo eye
In the wake of his future wife.
The crumbs blow free down the pointless sea
To the beat of a cakey heart
And the sensitive steel of the knife can feel
That love is a race apart.
In the speed of the lingering light are blown
The crumbs to the hake above,
And the tropical air vibrates to the drone
Of a cake in the throes of love.
(c. 1939)
From Figures of Speech. The Key to the drawing is on p. 234.
Simple, Seldom and Sad
Simple, seldom and sad
We are
Alone on the Halibut Hills
Afar
With sweet mad Expressions
Of old
Strangely beautiful,
So we’re told
By the Creatures that Move
In the sky
And Die
On the night when the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry.
Sensitive, seldom, and sad –
Simple, seldom and sad
Are we
When we take our path
To the purple sea –
With mad, sweet Expressions
Of Yore,
Strangely beautiful,
Yea, and More
On the Night of all Nights
When the sky
Streams by
In rags, while the Dead Trees
Prance and Die.
Sensitive, seldom, and sad –
Sensitive, seldom, and sad.
(c. 1939)
Linger Now with Me, Thou Beauty
Linger now with me, thou Beauty,
On the sharp archaic shore.
Surely ’tis a wastrel’s duty
And the gods could ask no more.
If thou lingerest when I linger,
If thou tread’st the stones I tread,
Thou wilt stay my spirit’s hunger
And dispel the dreams I dread.
Come thou, love, my own, my only,
Through the battlements of Groan;
Lingering becomes so lonely
When one lingers on one’s own.
I have lingered in the cloisters
Of the Northern Wing at night,
As the sky unclasped its oysters
On the midnight pearls of light.
For the long remorseless shadows
Chilled me with exquisite fear.
I have lingered in cold meadows
Through a month of rain, my dear.
Come, my Love, my sweet, my Only,
Through the parapets of Groan.
Lingering can be very lonely
When one lingers on one’s own.
In dark alcoves I have lingered
Conscious of dead dynasties.
I have lingered in blue cellars
And in hollow trunks of trees.
Many a traveller through moonlight
Passing by a winding stair
Or a cold and crumbling archway
Has been shocked to see me there.
I have longed for thee, my Only,
Hark! the footsteps of the Groan!
Lingering is so very lonely
When one lingers all alone.
Will you come with me, and linger?
And discourse with me of those
Secret things the mystic finger
Points to, but will not disclose?
When I’m all alone, my glory,
Always fades, because I find
Being lonely drives the splendour
Of my vision from my mind.
Come, oh come, my own! my Only!
Through the Gormenghast of Groan.
Lingering has become so lonely
As I linger all alone!
(October 1940)
I Married Her in Green
I married her in green
I married her in pink
And when it came to yellow
I knew just what to think
I murdered her in blue
I murdered her in red
And when I came to yellow
I found that she was dead.
I buried her in black
I buried her in white
But when it came to yellow
I k
new that I was right
I found a horse of leaves
With skin as bright as gorse
And when the leaves were gone
There wasn’t any horse
I laugh until I’m fat
I laugh until I’m thin
And then I find a bottle
To put my dentures in
(October 1940)
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.
Swelter’s Song
Give me food ’n’ drink ’n’ fun
’N’ flamingoesh of gweat pwishe,
Marshing round me eff’ry one
Of their fevvers pwink ’n’ nishe.
Give me an emblashoned waishtcoat
Flowered ’n’ shtarred in gween ’n’ bwown
’N’ a small shea-worthy pashte-boat
I can shtick to, when I dwown.
Give me theshe, cold fwend, and calloush!
They will help me wif my pwide.