Best Famous Gallivanting Poems
Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Gallivanting poems. This is a select list of the best famous Gallivanting poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Gallivanting poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of gallivanting poems.
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Written by
Rg Gregory |
name meaning thread weaver or duck
(these may be guesses from obscurity)
ten-year faithful wife whilst her husband
was gallivanting round the islands
deceiving the suitors by her shroud-unpicking
or maybe not such a savoury dame having
a high time with those after her favours
allegedly allowing hermes up her skirts
and becoming the mother of pan
or even (when odysseus was killed)
getting married to her own murdering son
penelope seemed to have been good material
for the greek tabloids (for which truth
as always was something of a side-dish)
and nowadays the long-suffering wife
who kept her would-be lovers at bay
with her deft (daft) needle has to be taken
with the same load of salt her husband
mixed in with his barley to prove how mad
he was and not fit to be a hero – we can’t
have celebrities who don’t get up to
the wildest things to leaven our own dull lives
i have a soft spot for penelope though
a bit like a cricketer deserted by her
own side having to play against eleven
thugs from the next village - so adept
with fingers and feet she could put herself
about as the whole team - her skills
at batting bowling fielding keeping score
prodigious in the eyes of bemused suitors
she’s the innermost feminine dream
thread of life weaver of stories – the duck
machismo gets bowled over and out for
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Written by
William Butler Yeats |
I
My Paistin Finn is my sole desire,
And I am shrunken to skin and bone,
For all my heart has had for its hire
Is what I can whistle alone and alone.
Oro, oro!
Tomorrow night I will break down the door.
What is the good of a man and he
Alone and alone, with a speckled shin?
I would that I drank with my love on my knee
Between two barrels at the inn.
Oro, oro!
To-morrow night I will break down the door.
Alone and alone nine nights I lay
Between two bushes under the rain;
I thought to have whistled her down that
I whistled and whistled and whistled in vain.
Oro, oro!
To-morrow night I will break down the door.
From The Pot of Broth
Tune: Paistin Finn
II
I would that I were an old beggar
Rolling a blind pearl eye,
For he cannot see my lady
Go gallivanting by;
A dreary, dreepy beggar
Without a friend on the earth
But a thieving rascally cur -
O a beggar blind from his birth;
Or anything else but a rhymer
Without a thing in his head
But rhymes for a beautiful lady,
He rhyming alone in his bed.
From The Player Queen
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