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.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Talking (and Singing) of the Nordic Man by Hilaire Belloc )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Remember This., richard harris
- Animals are there, gajanan mishra
- Someday, Johnny Goyena
- Girl, He Never Loved You, Ronell Warren Alman
- Writing on the wall, Nassy Fesharaki
- The Poetry of Onkar Nath Gupta, Bijay Kant Dubey
- So sorry, gajanan mishra
- My Dream Tonight, Wilfred Mellers
- To Joyce, Roger A. Rose
- Miriam's danse, Dimitri Khokhlov