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C J Dennis - A Guide for Poits
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(Compiled by the Sentimental Bloke)

I ain`t no verse-`og.  When I busts in song
   An` fills the air wiv choonful melerdy,
I likes fer uvver coves to come along
   An` biff the lyre in company wiv me.

So, when I sees some peb beguile an hour
   Be joinin` in the chorus o` me song,
I never sees no use in turnin` sour;
   Fer singin` days wiv no one larsts too long. 

I`d like to see the Rocks an` Little Lon
   Grow centres for the art uv weavin` rhyme,
Wiv dinky `arps fer blokes to plunk upon,
   An` spruiking poits workin` overtime.

I`d love to listen to each choonful lay
   Uv soulful coots who scorn to write fer gain;
To see True Art bloom down in Chowder Bay,
   An` Culcher jump the joint in Spadger`s Lane.

Gawstruth!  fer us life`s got no joy to spare,
   We`re short uv bird songs, "soarin` clean an` pure."
A bloke is `ardly orf the bottle there
   Before `e`s in the jug -- a bird fer sure.

So `oo am I to say no blokes shall sing
   Jist `ow an` where an` when sich blokes may choose?
She`s got no lines to show, nor yet no ring.
   Lor` blim`me!  I ain`t married to me Muse!

An, square an` all, to show there`s no offence,
   To show that in me `eart true friendship lies,
I gives free gratis, an wivout ixpense,
   A few igzamples, just to put `em wise.

First, choose some swingin` metre, sich as this,
   That Omar used -- per Fitz -- to boost the wine.
An` `ere`s a point true artists shouldn`t miss:
   Sling in a bit o` slang to ev`ry line.

An` when yer full o` them alternate rhymes --
As all the true push poits is at times --
Jist ring the changes, as I`m doin` now;
An` find ixcuse to say: "The bloomin` cow!"

Or, comin` back to Omar`s style again,
It`s easy fer to pen a sweet refrain
   Wiv this `ere kist a dead-`ead sort o` line,
An` this one rhymin` wiv the former twain.

An` though this style me soul `as often vext,
   Wiv care an` pains the knack is easy cort;
This line`s rhymed wiv the first, an` then the next
   Is cut orf short.
An` if yeh want to round it orf orl neat
Just add a couplet `ere of equil feet.

An` `ere`s a style I`ve very often done:
   You swing orf `ere, an` find a second rhyme,
Then hitch the third line to the leadin` one.
   An` make the fourth lap wiv the second chime,
   An` then you sort o` come another time,
An` jist end up the same as you begin.

It`s orl dead easy when yeh know the way,
An` `ave the time to practise it -- But, say,
   Although it sort o` takes the eye, no doubt
(An`, mind yeh, I`m not sayin` but it may) --
   Wivout a stock uv rhymes to see you out
This style o` rhymin`s like to turn yeh grey.

The triplets comes much `arder than the twins;
But I `ave `ad to bear `em fer me sins.
   `Ere, fer a single line, yeh change the style,
Switch orf an` rhyme the same as you begins;
   An` then yeh comes back at it wiv a smile,
   Pertendin` it`s dead easy orl the while.

Them sawed-orf lines `as often stood me friends;
Fer you kin cut `em upto serve yer ends.
   An` frequent I `ave slung the dotin` throng
            This sort o` song.
To ring su`prises on the eye an` ear
Is `arf the game.  It seems to kind o` queer
   The dull monotony.  yeh make a miss,
            An` then do this.

Aw, `Struth! it`s pretty; but you take my tip,
It gives a bloke the everlastin` pip
  `Oo tries to live upon the game and gets. . . . 
   Corns on `is brain an` melancholy debts!

Wiv sweat an` tears, wiv misery an` sighs,
   Yeh wring yer soul-case fer one drop of bliss
To give the cold, `ard world; an` it replies,
   "Prompt payment will erblige.  Please settle this."

The rarest treasures of yer `eart yeh spend
On callous, thankless coots; an` in the end
It comes to this: if you can`t find a muse
`Oo takes in washin`, wot`s the flamin` use?
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