Poetry.

Southern Cross, Volume 2, Issue 2, 14 April 1894, Page 11

Poetry.

A SONG FOR THE PEOPLE. In the days of old The pirate bold Clung to the rolling seas. On the vast expanse Where the billows dance He felt most at his ease. When he scuttled a boat Or cut a throat ’Twas quite convenient then To be up in the “ Roaring Forties ” Or down on the Sp mish Main. At least it was so in the days of old, When rogues were timid and honest men bold. If ever to land A pirate band To pillage and plunder came— If to ransack a town Or to burn it down The devil had made it their game— They’d at least hide away Until close of day, With their rakish craft in the still lagoon, Sheltered from view by tropical growth, Like a bird of prey ’neath the Southern moon ; But that was all in the days of old. When rogues were timid and honest men bold. The sea is swept clean From the robber’s spleen ; The black flag flutters down. One may sail away By inlet and bay. For the pirate has come to town. He has doffed his boots And outlandish suits. He is dressed like the upper ten ; Disguise and weapon he needs no more For filching the purse of the citizen. For these are not the days of old; The good man is timid, the rogue has grown bold. Instead of the sea The city must be The fount whence fortune flows ; He will pocket a street In a fashion neat Without ever coming to blows. In a big combine He will intertwine Himself with a resolute few Who are keen and strong for work ahead, And can go with a rush straight through, Since they know that gone are the days of old. When rogues were timid and honest men bold > At a figure high Lawyers they’ll buy Q-ifted to make it appear That statutes stand For the pirate band, And not for the people dear. With whispers low To councils they go With stock and contracts and cash ; They make them a strong majority— The thing is done in a flash — For to-day the people are out in the cold ; To the rich who purchase, the laws are sold. In a major key, With a wicked glee, Loud rings the pirate’s laugh. “ The people free I have chained,” quoth he, “ I have sifted the city like chaff. Its streets are mine, A harvest fine They will bring to my palace door.’ ’ He stands in the sun, and cries again : “ Liberty lives no more,” Dead and gone are the days of old, When rogues were.timid and honest men bold} A moment hold, Good pirate bold! Be not too sure, I pray. All black is the west With storm oppi eet * That may burst ere the close of day.

The smiling wave May prove a grave, And the seaman’s merry song May die, as the livid tempest wrack Sweeps the quivering sea along. For though we are not in the days of old, Hogues may turn timid and honest men bold. The people asleep Poor count may keep Of tricks that are played by your crew ; But the people awake A turn may take Sternly to reckon with you. To wrong and greed Bight at last may succeed, And of outraged Justice the sword May be lifted at length To smite and slay The enemies of the Lord. Then our day shall be as the days of old. With rogues grown timid and honest men bold. Selected.