10 Best Famous Stunts Poems

Here is a collection of the top 10 all-time best famous Stunts poems. This is a select list of the best famous Stunts poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Stunts poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of stunts poems.

• All Famous Stunts Poems

 I've got a little job on 'and, the time is drawin' nigh;
 At seven by the Captain's watch I'm due to go and do it;
I wants to 'ave it nice and neat, and pleasin' to the eye,
 And I 'opes the God of soldier men will see me safely through it.
Because, you see, it's somethin' I 'ave never done before;
 And till you 'as experience noo stunts is always tryin';
The chances is I'll never 'ave to do it any more:
 At seven by the Captain's watch my little job is . . . dyin'.

I've got a little note to write; I'd best begin it now.
 I ain't much good at writin' notes, but here goes: "Dearest Mother,
I've been in many 'ot old `do's'; I've scraped through safe some'ow,
 But now I'm on the very point of tacklin' another.
A little job of hand-grenades; they called for volunteers.
 They picked me out; I'm proud of it; it seems a trifle dicky.
If anythin' should 'appen, well, there ain't no call for tears,
 And so . . . I 'opes this finds you well. -- Your werry lovin' Micky."

I've got a little score to settle wiv them swine out there.
 I've 'ad so many of me pals done in it's quite upset me.
I've seen so much of bloody death I don't seem for to care,
 If I can only even up, how soon the blighters get me.
I'm sorry for them perishers that corpses in a bed;
 I only 'opes mine's short and sweet, no linger-longer-lyin';
I've made a mess of life, but now I'll try to make instead . . .
 It's seven sharp. Good-bye, old pals! . . . a decent job in dyin'.

 IF I should pass the tomb of Jonah
I would stop there and sit for awhile;
Because I was swallowed one time deep in the dark
And came out alive after all.

If I pass the burial spot of Nero
I shall say to the wind, “Well, well!”—
I who have fiddled in a world on fire,
I who have done so many stunts not worth doing.

I am looking for the grave of Sinbad too.
I want to shake his ghost-hand and say,
“Neither of us died very early, did we?”

And the last sleeping-place of Nebuchadnezzar—
When I arrive there I shall tell the wind:
“You ate grass; I have eaten crow—
Who is better off now or next year?”

Jack Cade, John Brown, Jesse James,
There too I could sit down and stop for awhile.
I think I could tell their headstones:
“God, let me remember all good losers.”

I could ask people to throw ashes on their heads
In the name of that sergeant at Belleau Woods,
Walking into the drumfires, calling his men,
“Come on, you … Do you want to live forever?”