Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
The Indian Myna - Poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Gimme the town an' its clamour an' clutter;
I ain't very fond of the bush;
For my cobbers are coves of the gardens and gutter-
A tough metropolitan push.
I ain't never too keen on the countryfield life;
It's the hustle an' bustle for me an' me wife.
So I swagger an' strut an' I cuss an' I swagger;
I'm wise to the city's hard way.
A bit of a bloke an' a bit of a bragger;
I've always got plenty to say.
Learned thro' knockin' about since my people came out
From the land at the back of Bombay.
When out in the bush I am never a ranger;
There never ain't nothin' to see.
Besides, them bush birds got no time for a stranger;
So town an' the traffic for me.
I sleep in the gardens an' loaf in the street,
An' sling off all day at the fellers I meet.
An' I swagger an' scold an' strut an' I swagger,
An' pick up me fun where I can,
Or tell off me wife, who's a bit of a nagger,
Or scrap with the sparrers for scran.
A bonzer at bluffin', I give you my word,
For, between you an' me, I'm a pretty tough bird.
Comments about The Indian Myna by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You