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Best Famous Buster Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Buster poems. This is a select list of the best famous Buster poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Buster poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of buster poems.

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Written by Walt Whitman | Create an image from this poem

A Boston Ballad 1854

 TO get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning early; 
Here’s a good place at the corner—I must stand and see the show. 

Clear the way there, Jonathan! 
Way for the President’s marshal! Way for the government cannon! 
Way for the Federal foot and dragoons—and the apparitions copiously tumbling.

I love to look on the stars and stripes—I hope the fifes will play Yankee Doodle. 

How bright shine the cutlasses of the foremost troops! 
Every man holds his revolver, marching stiff through Boston town. 

A fog follows—antiques of the same come limping, 
Some appear wooden-legged, and some appear bandaged and bloodless.

Why this is indeed a show! It has called the dead out of the earth! 
The old grave-yards of the hills have hurried to see! 
Phantoms! phantoms countless by flank and rear! 
Cock’d hats of mothy mould! crutches made of mist! 
Arms in slings! old men leaning on young men’s shoulders!

What troubles you, Yankee phantoms? What is all this chattering of bare gums? 
Does the ague convulse your limbs? Do you mistake your crutches for fire-locks, and level
 them?


If you blind your eyes with tears, you will not see the President’s marshal; 
If you groan such groans, you might balk the government cannon. 

For shame, old maniacs! Bring down those toss’d arms, and let your white hair be;
Here gape your great grand-sons—their wives gaze at them from the windows, 
See how well dress’d—see how orderly they conduct themselves. 

Worse and worse! Can’t you stand it? Are you retreating? 
Is this hour with the living too dead for you? 

Retreat then! Pell-mell!
To your graves! Back! back to the hills, old limpers! 
I do not think you belong here, anyhow. 

But there is one thing that belongs here—shall I tell you what it is, gentlemen of
 Boston?

I will whisper it to the Mayor—he shall send a committee to England; 
They shall get a grant from the Parliament, go with a cart to the royal vault—haste!

Dig out King George’s coffin, unwrap him quick from the grave-clothes, box up his
 bones
 for a
 journey; 
Find a swift Yankee clipper—here is freight for you, black-bellied clipper, 
Up with your anchor! shake out your sails! steer straight toward Boston bay. 

Now call for the President’s marshal again, bring out the government cannon, 
Fetch home the roarers from Congress, make another procession, guard it with foot and
 dragoons.

This centre-piece for them: 
Look! all orderly citizens—look from the windows, women! 

The committee open the box, set up the regal ribs, glue those that will not stay, 
Clap the skull on top of the ribs, and clap a crown on top of the skull. 

You have got your revenge, old buster! The crown is come to its own, and more than its
 own.

Stick your hands in your pockets, Jonathan—you are a made man from this day; 
You are mighty cute—and here is one of your bargains.


Written by Stephen Dunn | Create an image from this poem

I Come Home Wanting To Touch Everyone

 The dogs greet me, I descend
into their world of fur and tongues
and then my wife and I embrace
as if we'd just closed the door
in a motel, our two girls slip in
between us and we're all saying
each other's names and the dogs
Buster and Sundown are on their hind legs,
people-style, seeking more love.
I've come home wanting to touch
everyone, everything; usually I turn
the key and they're all lost
in food or homework, even the dogs
are preoccupied with themselves,
I desire only to ease
back in, the mail, a drink,
but tonight the body-hungers have sent out
their long-range signals
or love itself has risen
from its squalor of neglect.
Everytime the kids turn their backs
I touch my wife's breasts
and when she checks the dinner
the unfriendly cat on the dishwasher
wants to rub heads, starts to speak
with his little motor and violin--
everything, everyone is intelligible
in the language of touch,
and we sit down to dinner inarticulate
as blood, all difficulties postponed
because the weather is so good.
Written by Marriott Edgar | Create an image from this poem

Sams Racehorse

 When Sam Small retired from the Army 
He'd a pension of ninepence a day,
And seven pounds fourteen and twopence 
He'd saved from his rations and pay.

He knew this 'ere wasn't a fortune, 
But reckoned with prudence and care
He'd find some investment to save him 
From hard work and things like that there.

He thought he'd invest in a race orse, 
As apart from excitement and fun
He'd be able to sit down in comfort
And live on the money he won.

He knew buying 'orses was tricky, 
But that didn't daunt him at all;
He said "They must rise early 't mornin 
As wants to play tricks on Sam Small!"

When he called on the local 'Orse-dealer 
Surprise rooted him to the spot,
For he found 'twere his old Comp'ny Sergeant, 
Whose kindness he'd never forgot.

'Twere a happy reunion on both sides, 
Their pleasure at meeting was great,
For each hoped to diddle the other 
And wipe a few grudges off slate.

The Sergeant brought out his race 'orses, 
For which he asked various sums;
They hadn't a tooth left between them,
But Sam knew their age by their gums.

Sam studied their lines and deportment 
As Sergeant were trotting them round, 
And told him he reckoned their value 
Were fourpence, per race 'orse, per pound. 

Now the Sarg. had a filly called Buster 
As he hadn't said nothing about, 
But when Sam turned his nose up at t'others 
He thought as he'd best trot her out. 

Sam were struck with her youthful appearance,
Though there wasn't much light in the place,
For her teeth were all pearly and even 
And there wasn't a line on her face.

The Sergeant asked Sam twenty guineas, 
But Sam, who were up to his tricks,
Pretended he thought he'd said shillings 
And offered him eighteen and six.

In the end he paid eight guineas for her, 
And when he'd got home with the goods
He reckoned he'd not done so badly, 
For three of the guineas was duds.

But later, when he thought it over, 
A doubt through his mind seemed to creep,
If Buster were all she were painted, 
Why the Sergeant had sold her so cheap.

He very soon found out the answer 
When he looked at her close in her stall,
She'd the marks where her face had been lifted 
And a mouth full of false teeth an' all.

The little walk home had fatigued her 
And the cold air had started her cough;
Sam reckoned he'd best see the Sergeant 
And tell him the bargain was off.

The place were locked up when he got there,
And he realized Sergeant had bunked,
So back he went home in a dudgeon 
And found Buster lying-defunct.

Sam knew if he wanted to sell her 
He mustn't let on she were dead,
So he raffled her down at the Darts Club- 
Forty members at five bob a head.

The raffle were highly successful, 
They all came in every man jack 
And so's winner'd have no cause to grumble
Sam gave him his five shillings back.
Written by Robert William Service | Create an image from this poem

A Plea

 Why need we newer arms invent,
 Poor peoples to destroy?
With what we have let's be content
 And perfect their employ.
With weapons that may millions kill,
 Why should we seek for more,
A brighter spate of blood to spill,
 A deeper sea of gore?

The lurid blaze of atom light
 Vast continents will blind,
And steep in centuries of night
 Despairing humankind.
So let's be glad for gun and blade,
 To fight with honest stuff:
Are tank, block-buster, hand-grenade
 And napalm not enough?

Oh to go back a thousand years
 When arrows winged their way,
When foemen fell upon the spears
 And swords were swung to slay!
Behold! Belching in Heaven black
 Mushrooms obscene!
Dear God, the brave days give us back,
 When wars were clean!
Written by Andrew Barton Paterson | Create an image from this poem

A Disqualified Jockeys Story

 You see, the thing was this way -- there was me, 
That rode Panopply, the Splendor mare, 
And Ikey Chambers on the Iron Dook, 
And Smith, the half-caste rider on Regret, 
And that long bloke from Wagga -- him that rode 
Veronikew, the Snowy River horse. 
Well, none of them had chances -- not a chance 
Among the lot, unless the rest fell dead 
Or wasn't trying -- for a blind man's dog 
Could see Enchantress was a certain cop, 
And all the books was layin' six to four. 
They brought her out to show our lot the road, 
Or so they said: but, then Gord's truth! you know, 
You can believe 'em, though they took an oath 
On forty Bibles that they's tell the truth. 
But anyhow, an amateur was up 
On this Enchantress; and so Ike and me, 
We thought that we might frighten him a bit 
By asking if he minded riding rough -- 
"Oh, not at all," says he, "oh, not at all! 
I heard at Robbo Park, and if it comes 
To bumping I'm your Moses! Strike me blue!" 

Says he, "I'll bump you over either rail, 
The inside rail or outside -- which you choose 
Is good enough for me" -- which settled Ike. 
For he was shaky since he near got killed 
From being sent a buster on the rail, 
When some chap bumped his horse and fetched him down 
At Stony Bridge; so Ikey thought it best 
To leave this bloke alone, and I agreed. 

So all the books was layin' six to four 
Against the favourite, and the amateur 
Was walking this Enchantress up and down, 
And me and Smithy backed him; for we thought 
We might as well get something for ourselves, 
Because we knew our horses couldn't win. 
But Ikey wouldn't back him for a bob; 
Because he said he reckoned he was stiff, 
And all the books was layin' six to four. 

Well, anyhow, before the start the news 
Got around that this here amateur was stiff, 
And our good stuff was blued, and all the books 
Was in it, and the prices lengthened out, 
And every book was bustin' of his throat, 
And layin' five to one the favourite. 
So there was we that couldn't win ourselves, 
And this here amateur that wouldn't try, 
And all the books was layin' five to one. 

So Smithy says to me, "You take a hold 
Of that there moke of yours, and round the turn 
Come up behind Enchantress with the whip 
And let her have it; that long bloke and me 
Will wait ahead, and when she comes to us 
We'll pass her on and belt her down the straight, 
And Ikey'll flog her home -- because his boss 
Is judge and steward and the Lord knows what, 
And so he won't be touched; and, as for us, 
We'll swear we only hit her by mistake!" 
And all the books was layin' five to one. 

Well, off we went, and comin' to the turn 
I saw the amateur was holdinig back 
And poking into every hole he could 
To get her blocked; and so I pulled behind 
And drew the whip and dropped it on the mare. 
I let her have it twice, and then she shot 
Ahead of me, and Smithy opened out 
And let her up beside him on the rails, 
And kept her there a-beltin' her like smoke 
Until she struggled past him, pullin' hard, 
And came to Ike; but Ikey drew his whip 
And hit her on the nose, and sent her back 
And won the race himself -- for, after all, 
It seems he had a fiver on The Dook 
And never told us -- so our stuff was lost. 
And then they had us up for ridin' foul, 
And warned us off the tracks for twelve months each 
To get our livin' any way we could; 
But Ikey wasn't touched, because his boss 
Was judge and steward and the Lord knows what. 

But Mister -- if you'll lend us half-a-crown, 
I know three certain winners at the Park -- 
Three certain cops as no one knows but me; 
And -- thank you, Mister, come an' have a beer 
(I always like a beer about this time) . . . 
Well, so long, Mister, till we meet again.



Book: Reflection on the Important Things