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A Holy War



'Young friend!' . . . I tries to duck, but miss the bus.
'E sees me first, an' 'as me by the 'and.
'Young friend!' 'e sez; an' starts to make a fuss
At meetin' me. 'Why, this,' 'e sez, 'is grand!
Events is workin' better than I planned.
It's Providence that I should meet you thus.
You're jist the man,' 'e sez, 'to make a stand,
An' strive for us.

'Young friend,' 'e sez, 'allow me to explain
But wot 'e 'as to say too well I knows.
I got the stren'th uv it in Spadgers Lane
Not 'arf an hour before'and, when I goes
To see if I could pick up news uv Rose,
After that dentist let me off the chain.
('Painless,' 'e's labelled. So 'e is, I s'pose.
I 'ad the pain.)

'Young friend,' 'e sez. I let 'im 'ave 'is say;
Though I'm already wise to all 'e said
The queer old parson, with 'is gentle way
('E tied Doreen an' me when we was wed)
I likes 'im, from 'is ole soft, snowy 'ead
Down to 'is boots. 'E ain't the sort to pray
When folks needs bread.

Yeh'd think that 'e was simple as a child;
An' so 'e is, some ways; but, by and by,
While 'e is talkin' churchy-like an' mild,
Yeh catch a tiny twinkle in 'is eye
Which gives the office that 'e's pretty fly
To cunnin' lurks. 'E ain't to be beguiled
With fairy tales. An' when I've seen 'em try
'E's only smiled.

'Young friend,' 'e sez, 'I am beset by foes.
The Church,' 'e sez, 'is in a quandary.'
An' then 'e takes an' spills out all 'is woes,
An' 'ints that this 'ere job is up to me.
'Yer aid - per'aps yer strong right arm,' sez 'e,
'Is needed if we are to rescue Rose
From wot base schemes an' wot iniquity
Gawd only knows.'

This is the sorry tale. Rose, sick, an' low
In funds an' frien's, an' far too proud to beg,
Is gittin' sorely tempted fer to go
Into the spielin' trade by one Spike Wegg.
I knoo this Spike uv old; a reel bad egg,
'0o's easy livin' is to git in tow
Some country mug, an' pull 'is little leg
Fer all 'is dough.

A crooked crook is Spike amongst the crooks,
A rat, 'oo'd come the double on 'is friends;
Flash in 'is ways, but innercint in looks
Which 'e works well fer 'is un'oly ends.
'It's 'ard to know,' sez Snowy, 'why Fate sends
Sich men among us, or why justice brooks
Their evil ways, which they but seldom mends
Except in books.

'Young friend,' 'e sez, 'You're known in Spadgers Lane.
You know their ways. We must seek out this man.
With 'er, pray'r an' persuasion 'ave been vain.
I've pleaded, but she's bound to 'is vile plan.
I'd 'ave you treat 'im gently, if you can;
But if you can't, well - I need not explain.'
('E twinkles 'ere) 'I'm growin' partisan;
I must refrain.'

'Do you mean stoush?' I sez. 'Fer if yeh do
I warn yeh that a scrap might put me queer.'
'Young friend,' sez 'e, 'I leave the means to you.
Far be it from the Church to interfere
With noble works.' But I sez, 'Now, look 'ere,
I got a wife at 'ome; you know 'er, too.
Ther's certin things I never could make clear
If once she knoo.

'I got a wife,' I sez, 'an' loves 'er well,
Like I loves peace an' quite. An' if I goes
Down into Spadgers, raisin' merry 'ell,
Breakin' the peace an' things account uv Rose,
Where that might land me goodness only knows.
'Ow women sees these things no man can tell.
I've done with stoush,' I sez. ''Ard knocks an' blows
'Ave took a spell.

'I've done with stoush,' I sez. But in some place
Deep in me 'eart a voice begun to sing;
A lurin' little voice, with motives base…
It's ten long years since I was in a ring,
Ten years since I gave that left 'ook a swing.
Ten weary years since I pushed in a face;
An' 'ere's a chance to 'ave a little fling
With no disgrace.

'Stoush? Stoush, young friend?' 'e sez. 'Where 'ave I 'eard
That term? I gather it refers to strife.
But there,' 'e sez, 'why quarrel with a word?
As you 'ave said, indeed, I know yer wife;
An' should she 'ear you went where vice is rife
To battle fer the right - But it's absurd
To look fer gallantry in modrin life.
It's a rare bird.

'Young friend,' 'e sez. An' quicker than a wink
'Is twinklin' eyes grew sudden very grave.
'Young friend,' 'e sez, 'I know jist wot yeh think
Uv 'ow us parsons blather an' be'ave.
But I 'ave 'ere a woman's soul to save
A lonely woman, tremblin' on the brink
Uv black perdition, blacker than the grave.
An' she must sink.

'Yes, she must sink,' 'e sez. 'For I 'ave done
All that a man uv my poor parts can do.
An' I 'ave failed! There was not anyone
That I could turn to, ti
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

4:32 min read
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Quick analysis:

Scheme ABACCACA DEDEEDED FGFGBFG HIHIIHIH EJEJJEJE KLKLLKLK MNMNNMAM DODOODPD QRQRXQRD SESEESES TUTUUTUT BVWVVWVW XYXFYXYX PQPJ
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 4,288
Words 897
Stanzas 14
Stanza Lengths 8, 8, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 4

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis, better known as C. J. Dennis, was an Australian poet known for his humorous poems, especially "The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke", published in the early 20th century. Though Dennis's work is less well known today, his 1915 publication of The Sentimental Bloke sold 65,000 copies in its first year, and by 1917 he was the most prosperous poet in Australian history. Together with Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson, both of whom he had collaborated with, he is often considered among Australia's three most famous poets. While attributed to Lawson by 1911, Dennis later claimed he himself was the 'laureate of the larrikin'. When he died at the age of 61, the Prime Minister of Australia Joseph Lyons suggested he was destined to be remembered as the 'Australian Robert Burns'. more…

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    "A Holy War" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 27 Jan. 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/6144/a-holy-war>.

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