Descriptive Jottings of London

Knight of the White Elephant of Burmah William McGonagall

As I stood upon London Bridge and viewed the mighty throng

Of thousands of people in cabs and ’busses rapidly whirling along,

All furiously driving to and fro,

Up one street and down another as quick as they could go:

Then I was struck with the discordant sound of human voices there,

Which seemed to me like wild geese cackling in the air:

And the river Thames is a most beautiful sight,

To see the steamers sailing upon it by day and by night.

And the Tower of London is most gloomy to behold,

And the crown of England lies there, begemmed with precious stones and gold;

King Henry the Sixth was murdered there by the Duke of Glo’ster,

And when he killed him with his sword he called him an impostor.

St. Paul’s Cathedral is the finest building that ever I did see,

There’s no building can surpass it in the city of Dundee,

Because it’s magnificent to behold,

With its beautiful dome and spire glottering like gold.

And as for Nelson’s Monument that stands in Trafalgar Square,

It is a most stately monument I most solemnly declare,

And towering defiantly very high,

Which arrests strangers’ attention while passing by.

Then there’s two beautiful water-fountains spouting up very high,

Where the weary traveller can drink when he feels dry;

And at the foot of the monument there’s three bronze lions in grand array,

Enough to make the stranger’s heart throb with dismay.

Then there’s Mr Spurgeon, a great preacher, which no one dare gainsay,

I went to hear him preach on the Sabbath-day,

And he made my heart feel light and gay,

When I heard him preach and pray.

And the Tabernacle was crowded from ceiling to floor,

And many were standing outside the door;

He is an eloquent preacher I honestly declare,

And I was struck with admiration as on him I did stare.

Then there’s Petticoat Lane I venture to say,

It’s a wonderful place on the Sabbath-day;

There wearing-apparel can be bought to suit the young or old,

For the ready cash, silver, coppers, or gold.

Oh! mighty city of London! you are wonderful to see,

And thy beauties no doubt fill the tourist’s heart with glee;

But during my short stay, and while wandering there,

Mr Spurgeon was the only man I heard speaking proper english I do declare.

Rating:

Comment form:

I need more time, a simple day in Paris hotels and window shopping.
The croissants will not bake themselves and the Tower of London would
Like to spend a night in the tropics with gray sassy paint. It has many
Wounds and historic serial dreams under contract to Hollywood.
Who will play the head of Mary, Queen of Scots, and who will braid her

Hair? Was it she who left her lips on the block for the executioner,
Whose hands would never find ablution, who would never touch a woman
Again or eat the flesh of a red animal? Blood pudding would repulse him
Until joining Anne. That is the way of history written for Marlow and
Shakespear. They are with us now that we are sober and wiser,

Not taking the horrors of poetry too seriously. Why am I telling you this
Nonsense, when I have never seen you sip your coffee or tea,
In the morning? Not to mention,

Comment form:

Similar Poems: