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The Coo-ee Reciter: Humorous, Pathetic, Dramatic, Dialect, Recitations & ReadingsVarious

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The Coo-ee Reciter: Humorous, Pathetic, Dramatic, Dialect, Recitations & Readings

Name: The Coo-ee Reciter: Humorous, Pathetic, Dramatic, Dialect, Recitations & Readings
Author: Various

Various

Literature -- Collections; Recitations

MATTHEW GREGORY LEWIS (Monk Lewis).
    An All-around Intellectual Man.                        TOM MASSON.
    Her Ideal                                          KATE MASTERSON.
    The Happy Farmer.                               MORTIMER C. BROWN.
    The Son of a Soldier                                  OWEN OLIVER.
    The Mile                                       DAVID M'KEE WRIGHT.




THE COO-EE RECITER




_I KILLED A MAN AT GRASPAN._

(_The Tale of a Returned Australian Contingenter done into verse._)


    I killed a man at Graspan,
      I killed him fair in fight;
    And the Empire's poets and the Empire's priests
      Swear blind I acted right.
    The Empire's poets and Empire's priests
      Make out my deed was fine,
    But they can't stop the eyes of the man I killed
      From starin' into mine.

    I killed a man at Graspan,
      Maybe I killed a score;
    But this one wasn't a chance-shot home,
      From a thousand yards or more.
    I fired at him when he'd got no show;
      We were only a pace apart,
    With the cordite scorchin' his old worn coat
      As the bullet drilled his heart.

    I killed a man at Graspan,
      I killed him fightin' fair;
    We came on each other face to face,
      An' we went at it then and there.
    Mine was the trigger that shifted first,
      His was the life that sped.
    An' a man I'd never a quarrel with
      Was spread on the boulders dead.

    I killed a man at Graspan;
      I watched him squirmin' till
    He raised his eyes, an' they met with mine;
      An' there they're starin' still.
    Cut of my brother Tom, he looked,
      Hardly more'n a kid;
    An', Christ! he was stiffenin' at my feet
      Because of the thing I did.

    I killed a man at Graspan;
      I told the camp that night;
    An' of all the lies that ever I told
      That was the poorest skite.
    I swore I was proud of my hand-to-hand,
      An' the Boer I'd chanced to pot,
    An' all the time I'd ha' gave my eyes
      To never ha' fired that shot.

    I killed a man at Graspan;
      An hour ago about,
    For there he lies with his starin' eyes,
      An' his blood still tricklin' out.
    I know it was either him or me,
      I know that I killed him fair,
    But, all the same, wherever I look,
      The man that I killed is there.

    I killed a man at Graspan;
      My first and, God! my last;
    Harder to dodge than my bullet is
      The look that his dead eyes cast.
    If the Empire asks for me later on
      It'll ask for me in vain,
    Before I reach to my bandolier
      To fire on a man again.

    M. GROVER.




_KITTY O'TOOLE._

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

The Coo-ee Reciter: Humorous, Pathetic, Dramatic, Dialect, Recitations & Readings

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