Hilaire Belloc (27 July 1870 – 16 July 1953 / La Celle-Saint-Cloud)
Talking (and Singing) of the Nordic Man
Behold, my child, the Nordic man,
And be as like him, as you can;
His legs are long, his mind is slow,
His hair is lank and made of tow.
And here we have the Alpine Race:
Oh! What a broad and foolish face!
His skin is of a dirty yellow.
He is a most unpleasant fellow.
The most degraded of them all
Mediterranean we call.
His hair is crisp, and even curls,
And he is saucy with the girls.
Comments about this poem (Talking (and Singing) of the Nordic Man by Hilaire Belloc )
People who read Hilaire Belloc also read
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings