Ironic Poem About Prostitution

When I was young and had no sense
In far-off Mandalay
I lost my heart to a Burmese girl
As lovely as the day.

Her skin was gold, her hair was jet,
Her teeth were ivory;
I said, for twenty silver pieces,
Maiden, sleep with me.

She looked at me, so pure, so sad,
The loveliest thing alive,
And in her lisping, virgin voice,
Stood out for twenty-five.

Eric Blair

Eric Arthur Blair, known by his pen name George Orwell, was an English novelist, essayist, journalist and critic. He is best known for his allegorical novella 'Animal Farm' and the dystopian novel '1984'. Orwell's work is marked by lucid prose, awareness of social injustice, opposition to totalitarianism, and outspoken support of democratic socialism.

Eric Blair

The Lesser Evil

Eric Blair, Simple Poetry

Our Minds Are Married, But We Are Too Young

Eric Blair, Simple Poetry

The Pagan

Eric Blair, Simple Poetry

English

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The Lesser Evil

Empty as death and slow as pain
The days went by on leaden feet;
And parsons week had come again
As I walked down the little street.

Without, the weary doves were calling,
The sun burned on the banks of mud;
Within, old maids were caterwauling
A dismal tale of thorns and blood.

I thought of all the church bells ringing
In towns that Christian folks were in;
I heard the godly maidens singing;
I turned into the house of sin.

The house of sin was dark & mean,
With dying flowers round the door;
They spat their betel juice between
The rotten bamboos of the floor.

Why did I come, the woman cried,
So seldom to her beds of ease?
When I was not, her spirit died,
And would I give her ten rupees.

The weeks went by, a...

Eric Blair

A Little Poem

A happy vicar I might have been
Two hundred years ago
To preach upon eternal doom
And watch my walnuts grow;

But born, alas, in an evil time,
I missed that pleasant haven,
For the hair has grown on my upper lip
And the clergy are all clean-shaven.

And later still the times were good,
We were so easy to please,
We rocked our troubled thoughts to sleep
On the bosoms of the trees.

All ignorant we dared to own
The joys we now dissemble;
The greenfinch on the apple bough
Could make my enemies tremble.

But girls bellies and apricots,
Roach in a shaded stream,
Horses, ducks in flight at dawn,
All these are a dream.

It is forbidden to dream again;
We maim our joys or hide them:
Horses are made of chromium st...

Eric Blair

A Dream Of Bric-A-Brac.

[C. K. loquitur.]



I dreamed I was in fair Niphon.
Amid tea-fields I journeyed on,
Reclined in my jinrikishaw;
Across the rolling plains I saw
The lordly Fusi-yama rise,
His blue cone lost in bluer skies.

At last I bade my bearers stop
Before what seemed a china-shop.
I roused myself and entered in.
A fearful joy, like some sweet sin,
Pierced through my bosom as I gazed,
Entranced, transported, and amazed.

For all the house was but one room,
And in its clear and grateful gloom,
Filled with all odours strange and strong
That to the wondrous East belong,
I saw above, around, below,
A sight to make the warm heart glow,
And leave the eager soul no lack, -
An endless wealth of bric-a-brac.

I saw bronze sta...

John Hay

Our Minds Are Married, But We Are Too Young

Our minds are married, but we are too young
For wedlock by the customs of this age
When parent homes pen each in separte cage
And only supper-earning songs are sung.

Times past, when medieval woods were green,
Babes were betrothed, and that betrothal brief.
Remember Romeo in love and grief
Those star-crossed lovers, Juliet was fourteen.

Times past, the caveman by his new-found fire
Rested beside his mate in woodsmokes scent.
By our own fireside we shall rest content
Fifty years hence keep troth with hearts desire.

We shall remember, when our hair is white,
These clouded days revealed in radiant light.

Eric Blair

The Woman That You Pass By

My trade was old when the world was new,
    Ere the pyramids rose by the Nile
Men quitted their wives, and gave me their goods
    For the warmth of my kiss, and my smile.
For never was wife who could hold her man
    By the honeymoon's afterglow
Did I veil mine eyes and beckon to him,
    God's truth, and 'tis you who know.

My trade was old when the world was new,
    Long ere Caesar ruled in Rome,
To spend their gold in a harlot's cell
    Patricians quitted home.
And high born dames since the world began
    Have learned to sit and to sigh
And to patiently wait for their lords to leave
    The woman that you pass by.

I'm only a pawn in the game called life,
    Yet I take what you never could hold;
I garner the kisses you'd barter lif...

Pat O'Cotter

Mandalay

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat, jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o'mud,
Wot they called the...

Rudyard