A Bachelor’s Christmas Rhyme. - Sligo Poets

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     Sligo Independent 27 December 1913

                             By Rustic.

Dear Mr. Editor—

I lay down my pencil and take up my pen
To send you a line from my bachelor den;
I’ve escaped many leap years without being "axd"
Hope to see many more without being taxed,
And good Christmas cheer free from marital strife—
The yells of a baby or the frowns of a wife.
Or the suffragette terror that walketh by night
Sending houses to blazes in "spreading the light."

Now Christmas is coming, ‘tis the season I like,
And I hope that our postmen won’t go out on strike
Or even go "Larkin," for fun or for pay,
Till the mails are delivered on New Year’s Day.
Then I’d vote justice for postmen and all
Who would nobly respond to duty’s loud call;
So here’s to the postmen who bring us the news
The parcel, the packet and sweet billet doux
That come as a balm or as plaster of Paris
To close up the wounds caused by Cupid’s keen arrows,
With mistletoe berries thrown in for the misses
Who say that their lips are just spoilin’ for kisses.
Are bachelors selfish? My word! they are not,
Though a dog and a cat share their room or cot;
They could give good advice on all moral laws,
And a blessin’ give free to philanthropy’s cause,
And help themselves—well, just as well as they can,
And sure Providence helps this sort of a man.

For myself I have thoughts that are grateful and good,
And to all my friends at home and abroad
I send season’s greetings and "Happy New Year,"
Unclouded by sorrow, undim’d by a tear;
There are many in Sligo—how kindly they are—
Whom I’d like to shake hands with when in Glencar,
Now, here in parenthesis, let me remark
That it rains in Glencar till we need Noah’s Ark.

To that bright beauty spot, Lissadell in the West—
What a harbour of joy what a garden of rest—
Go my thoughts in wireless message of greeting
To the friends there I’ve met and hope to be meeting,
When narcissus bloom away down mid the trees,
And daffodils nod to the whispering breeze.

Now, Mr Editor, you must not "say when,"
Till I’ve finished my rhyme from my bachelor den,
I crave your forbearance and say "if you please,"
I’ve a word or two more to send over the seas,

To Mr John Bull—

Now, John just listen for a while
To weeping, smiling Erin;
She talks to you this Christmas eve’
Across the salty mearin’.

Sometimes she’s flirting with Home Rule
And coquetting with strikes,
And in some other ways, John,
She does much as she likes.

I wish you’d get her married, John,
I’m sure I know you "oughter,"
I’d like to help you make the match
Because she is your daughter.

With steady hands to guide her, John,
And rows and riots cease,
The dowry this  xxx needs is
Good will to all and—Peace.

Now, John, a message of good will
I send across the waters,
I like your country and your ways
And all your pretty daughters.

The author of this poem seems to be the same "Rustic" who was a regular contributor of news items and opinion pieces from Glencar to the Sligo newspapers. He was the author of Votes for Women a poem published in the Sligo Times in 1912.

His identity is unknown to me and his political affiliations are unclear though he is obviously not a strong advocate of Home Rule.

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