A Broadside: No. 8

Title

A Broadside: No. 8

Subject

Cuala Press
Dun Emer Press
Ireland
Irish Literary Revival
The Gaelic Revival

Description

PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS,
CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN.SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.
The woodcut on page [3] has caption: "THE PUGILISTS". Signed Jack B. Yeats,

Creator

E. C. Yeats
Jack B. Yeats
Wolfe T. MacGowan
James Stephens

Publisher

Cuala Press

Date

January, 1909.

Text

THEODORE TO HIS GRANDSON
Grandson
O gamfer: you are lined and old,
Your nose is blue, your hands are cold,
Your wrinkles twist and groove and fold,
Your withered spine is bending.

O tell this child, this little lad,
What you were like when you were bad,
And what defence you could have had
Could aught deserve defending?

Theodore
Why as to that, my little son,
Blood spilt is spilt, man dead is done,
We took and blowed em from a gun,
Or sawed em in halves, sir.

And rum, red rum, is my delight.
It makes me old hulk watertight;
Or give me two dogs to set to fight
Tradoodle.
Wolfe T. Mac Gowan

WHY THOMAS CAM WAS GRUMPY
If I were rich what would I do?
I'd leave the horse just ready to shoe,
I'd leave the pail beside the cow,
I'd leave the furrow beneath the plough,
I'd leave the ducks tho' they should quack;
'Our eggs will be broke before you're back.'
I'd buy a diamond brooch, a ring,
A golden chain which I would fling
Around her neck .... Ah, what an itch,
If I were rich.

What would I do if I were wise?
I wouldn't debate about the skies,
I wouldn't try a book to write
Or find the wrong in the tangled right,
I wouldn't debate with learned men,
Of how, and what, and why, and when.
I'd train my tongue to a linnet's song,
I'd learn the words that couldn't go wrong-
And then I'd say .... And win the prize,
If I were wise.

But I'm not that or t'other, I bow
My back to the work that's waiting now,
I'll show the hose that's standing ready,
I'll milk the cow if she'll be steady,
I'll follow the plough that turns the loam,
I'll watch the ducks that lay from home.
And curse, and curse, and curse again
Till the devil joins in with his deep amen,
And none but he and I will wot
When the heart that's in me starts to rot,
To fester and churn its ugly brew:
... Where's my spade, I've work to do.
James Stephens.

Original Format

Broadside

Files

008.pdf

Citation

E. C. Yeats et al., “A Broadside: No. 8,” Linda Lear Center Digital Collections and Exhibitions, accessed September 30, 2022, https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1353.