![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The rain it raineth on the just
And also on the unjust fella;
But chiefly on the just, because
The unjust hath the just’s umbrella.
Attributed to Charles Bowen, and echoing Matthew 5:45
Fareweel Regality
Sep. 17th, 2020 10:53 amI posted this in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
onesongaday because it's excellent. I said there that it brings a tear to my eye, but it's worse than that. I want to tell everyone to listen to this song, but at the same time, what if they don't like it?
Here's how it ends:
onesongaday because it's excellent. I said there that it brings a tear to my eye, but it's worse than that. I want to tell everyone to listen to this song, but at the same time, what if they don't like it?Here's how it ends:
Then on some golden autumn morn
Or when July is hazing Dipton Slopes
By Whitley Mill or Westburnhope
We'll live and spend the day
And so we'll cry fareweel Regality
And cry fareweel the Liberty
To honest friends' civility
To winter's frost and fire
And there's nowt that I can bid ye
But that peace and love gan with ye
Never mind wherever call the fates
Away from Hexhamshire
Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.
Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amythysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.
John Masefield
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.
Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amythysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.
John Masefield
