The Straggler

The Book of Odes, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1908], at sacred-texts.com

p. 31

THE STRAGGLER

There is that little oriole
At rest where the mound doth rise;
Oh, but the way is long,
Long that before me lies.
There is no rest for me,
None for my tired feet;
Give me to drink and eat,
Do what is best for me.
Order an ambulance car,
And carry me, carry me on.

There is that little oriole
At rest where the mound doth bend;
Oh, but I know no fear
Save if the march will end.
There is no rest for me,
None for my tired feet;
Give me to drink and eat,
Do what is best for me.
Order an ambulance car,
And carry me, carry me on.

There is that little oriole
At rest on the hillock grey;
Oh, but I know no fear
Save that I fall by the way.

p. 32

[paragraph continues] There is no rest for me,
None for my tired feet;
Give me to drink and eat,
Do what is best for me.
Order an ambulance car,
And carry me, carry me on.