The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rubaiyat of Ohow Dryyam



This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.


Title: The Rubaiyat of Ohow Dryyam



Author: J. L. Duff



Release date: November 5, 2007 [eBook #23338]

Most recently updated: November 20, 2007



Language: English



Credits: Produced by K. Nordquist, Jacqueline Jeremy and the Online

Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This

file was produced from images generously made available

by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)




*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RUBAIYAT OF OHOW DRYYAM ***

The Rubàiyàt of Ohow Dryyàm



The Rubàiyàt of Ohow Dryyàm


Copyrighted 1922

by Leedon Publishing Company





Leedon Publishing Company

405 flood building

san francisco






THE

RUBAIYAT

OF

OHOW DRYYAM

By J. L. DUFF

With Apologies to

OMAR


Illustrated by

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

[Not of Philadelphia]





The Rubaiyat of Ohow Dryyam


I



Wail! for the Law has scattered into flight

Those Drinks that were our sometime dear Delight;

And still the Morals-tinkers plot and plan

New, sterner, stricter Statutes to indite.


II



After the phantom of our Freedom died

Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried:

“Drink coffee, Lads, for that is all that’s left

Since our Land of the Free is washed—and dried.”






And still the Morals-tinkers plot and plan

New, sterner, stricter Statutes to indite.





III



The Haigs indeed are gone, and on the Nose

That bourgeoned once with color of the rose

A deathly Pallor sits, while down the lane

Where once strode Johnny Walker—Water goes.


IV



Come, fill the Cup, and in the Coffee-house

We’ll learn a new and temperate Carouse—

The Bird of Time flies with a steadier wing

But roosts with sleepless Eye—a Coffee Souse!


V



Each morn a thousand Recipes, you say—

Yes, but where match the beer of Yesterday?

And those Spring Months that used to bring the Bock

Seem very long ago and far away.






The Bird of Time flies with a steadier wing

But roosts with sleepless Eye—a Coffee Souse!





VI



A Book of Blue Laws underneath the Bough,

A pot of Tea, a piece of Toast,—and Thou

Beside me sighing in the Wilderness—

Wilderness? It’s Desert, Sister, now.


VII



Some for a Sunday without Taint, and Some

Sigh for Inebriate Paradise to come,

While Moonshine takes the Cash (no Credit goes)

And real old Stuff demands a Premium.






A Book of Blue Laws underneath the Bough,

A pot of Tea, a piece of Toast,—and Thou ...





VIII



The Scanty Stock we set our hearts upon

Still dwindles and declines until anon,

Like Snow upon the Desert’s dusty Face,

It lights us for an hour and then—is gone.


IX



Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears

Today of past Regrets and future Fears—

Tomorrow!—Why, Tomorrow I may be

In Canada or Scotland or Algiers!


X



Yes, make the most of what we still may spend;

The last Drop’s lingering Taste may yet transcend

Anticipation’s Bliss—though we are left

Sans Wine, Sans Song, Sans Singer, and—Sans End.






The Scanty Stock we set our hearts upon ...





XI



Alike for those who for the Drouth prepared

And those who, like myself, more poorly fared,

Fond Memory weaves Roseate Shrouds to dress

Departed Spirits we have loved—and shared.


XII



Myself when young did eagerly frequent

The gilded Bar, and all my Lucre spent

For bottled Joyousness, but evermore

Came out less steadily than in I went.


XIII



The legal Finger writes; and having writ,

Moves on—and neither Thirst nor Wit

Has lured it back to cancel half a line

To give a Man excuse for being lit.






Myself when young did eagerly frequent

The gilded Bar ...





XIV



And Bill the Bootlegger—the Infidel!—

When He takes my last Cent for just a Smell

Of Hooch, I wonder what Bootleggers buy

One half so precious as the Stuff they sell.


XV



Oh Bill, Who dost with White Mule and with Gin

Beset the Road I am to Wander in,

If I am garnered of the Law, wilt Thou,

All piously, Impute my Fall to Sin?






And Bill the Bootlegger—the Infidel!—





XVI



Yon rising Moon that looks for us again—

How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;

But, Oh, how oft before we have beheld

Six Moons arise—who now seek Two in vain.


XVII



And when Thyself at last shall come to trip

Down that dim Dock where Charon loads his Ship,

I’ll meet Thee on the other Wharf if Thou

Wilt promise to have Something on thy Hip.






But, Oh, how oft before we have beheld

Six Moons arise ...





        

Comments on "The Rubaiyat of Ohow Dryyam" :

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Join Our Literary Community

Subscribe to our newsletter for exclusive book recommendations, author interviews, and upcoming releases.