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Best Famous Through Thick And Thin Poems

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Written by Jack Prelutsky | Create an image from this poem

Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

 Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
Imagine if your precious nose were sandwiched in between your toes, that clearly would not be a treat, for you'd be forced to smell your feet.
Your nose would be a source of dread were it attached atop your head, it soon would drive you to despair, forever tickled by your hair.
Within your ear, your nose would be an absolute catastrophe, for when you were obliged to sneeze, your brain would rattle from the breeze.
Your nose, instead, through thick and thin, remains between your eyes and chin, not pasted on some other place-- be glad your nose is on your face!


Written by Jonathan Swift | Create an image from this poem

The Ladys Dressing Room

 Five hours, (and who can do it less in?)
By haughty Celia spent in dressing;
The goddess from her chamber issues,
Arrayed in lace, brocades, and tissues.
Strephon, who found the room was void And Betty otherwise employed, Stole in and took a strict survey Of all the litter as it lay; Whereof, to make the matter clear, An inventory follows here.
And first a dirty smock appeared, Beneath the arm-pits well besmeared.
Strephon, the rogue, displayed it wide And turned it round on every side.
On such a point few words are best, And Strephon bids us guess the rest; And swears how damnably the men lie In calling Celia sweet and cleanly.
Now listen while he next produces The various combs for various uses, Filled up with dirt so closely fixt, No brush could force a way betwixt.
A paste of composition rare, Sweat, dandruff, powder, lead and hair; A forehead cloth with oil upon't To smooth the wrinkles on her front.
Here alum flower to stop the steams Exhaled from sour unsavory streams; There night-gloves made of Tripsy's hide, Bequeath'd by Tripsy when she died, With puppy water, beauty's help, Distilled from Tripsy's darling whelp; Here gallypots and vials placed, Some filled with washes, some with paste, Some with pomatum, paints and slops, And ointments good for scabby chops.
Hard by a filthy basin stands, Fouled with the scouring of her hands; The basin takes whatever comes, The scrapings of her teeth and gums, A nasty compound of all hues, For here she spits, and here she spews.
But oh! it turned poor Strephon's bowels, When he beheld and smelt the towels, Begummed, besmattered, and beslimed With dirt, and sweat, and ear-wax grimed.
No object Strephon's eye escapes: Here petticoats in frowzy heaps; Nor be the handkerchiefs forgot All varnished o'er with snuff and snot.
The stockings, why should I expose, Stained with the marks of stinking toes; Or greasy coifs and pinners reeking, Which Celia slept at least a week in? A pair of tweezers next he found To pluck her brows in arches round, Or hairs that sink the forehead low, Or on her chin like bristles grow.
The virtues we must not let pass, Of Celia's magnifying glass.
When frighted Strephon cast his eye on't It shewed the visage of a giant.
A glass that can to sight disclose The smallest worm in Celia's nose, And faithfully direct her nail To squeeze it out from head to tail; (For catch it nicely by the head, It must come out alive or dead.
) Why Strephon will you tell the rest? And must you needs describe the chest? That careless wench! no creature warn her To move it out from yonder corner; But leave it standing full in sight For you to exercise your spite.
In vain, the workman shewed his wit With rings and hinges counterfeit To make it seem in this disguise A cabinet to vulgar eyes; For Strephon ventured to look in, Resolved to go through thick and thin; He lifts the lid, there needs no more: He smelt it all the time before.
As from within Pandora's box, When Epimetheus oped the locks, A sudden universal crew Of humane evils upwards flew, He still was comforted to find That Hope at last remained behind; So Strephon lifting up the lid To view what in the chest was hid, The vapours flew from out the vent.
But Strephon cautious never meant The bottom of the pan to grope And foul his hands in search of Hope.
O never may such vile machine Be once in Celia's chamber seen! O may she better learn to keep "Those secrets of the hoary deep"! As mutton cutlets, prime of meat, Which, though with art you salt and beat As laws of cookery require And toast them at the clearest fire, If from adown the hopeful chops The fat upon the cinder drops, To stinking smoke it turns the flame Poisoning the flesh from whence it came; And up exhales a greasy stench For which you curse the careless wench; So things which must not be exprest, When plumpt into the reeking chest, Send up an excremental smell To taint the parts from whence they fell, The petticoats and gown perfume, Which waft a stink round every room.
Thus finishing his grand survey, Disgusted Strephon stole away Repeating in his amorous fits, Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits! But vengeance, Goddess never sleeping, Soon punished Strephon for his peeping: His foul Imagination links Each dame he see with all her stinks; And, if unsavory odors fly, Conceives a lady standing by.
All women his description fits, And both ideas jump like wits By vicious fancy coupled fast, And still appearing in contrast.
I pity wretched Strephon blind To all the charms of female kind.
Should I the Queen of Love refuse Because she rose from stinking ooze? To him that looks behind the scene Satira's but some pocky queen.
When Celia in her glory shows, If Strephon would but stop his nose (Who now so impiously blasphemes Her ointments, daubs, and paints and creams, Her washes, slops, and every clout With which he makes so foul a rout), He soon would learn to think like me And bless his ravished sight to see Such order from confusion sprung, Such gaudy tulips raised from dung.
Written by Henry Lawson | Create an image from this poem

Jack Dunn of Nevertire

 It chanced upon the very day we'd got the shearing done, 
A buggy brought a stranger to the West-o'-Sunday Run; 
He had a round and jolly face, and he was sleek and stout, 
He drove right up between the huts and called the super out.
We chaps were smoking after tea, and heard the swell enquire For one as travelled by the name of `Dunn of Nevertire'.
Jack Dunn of Nevertire, Poor Dunn of Nevertire; There wasn't one of us but knew Jack Dunn of Nevertire.
`Jack Dunn of Nevertire,' he said; `I was a mate of his; And now it's twenty years since I set eyes upon his phiz.
There is no whiter man than Jack -- no straighter south the line, There is no hand in all the land I'd sooner grip in mine; To help a mate in trouble Jack would go through flood and fire.
Great Scott! and don't you know the name of Dunn of Nevertire? Big Dunn of Nevertire, Long Jack from Nevertire; He stuck to me through thick and thin, Jack Dunn of Nevertire.
`I did a wild and foolish thing while Jack and I were mates, And I disgraced my guv'nor's name, an' wished to try the States.
My lamps were turned to Yankee Land, for I'd some people there, And I was right when someone sent the money for my fare; I thought 'twas Dad until I took the trouble to enquire, And found that he who sent the stuff was Dunn of Nevertire, Jack Dunn of Nevertire, Soft Dunn of Nevertire; He'd won some money on a race -- Jack Dunn of Nevertire.
`Now I've returned, by Liverpool, a swell of Yankee brand, To reckon, guess, and kalkilate, 'n' wake my native land; There is no better land, I swear, in all the wide world round -- I smelt the bush a month before we touched King George's Sound! And now I've come to settle down, the top of my desire Is just to meet a mate o' mine called `Dunn of Nevertire'.
Was raised at Nevertire -- The town of Nevertire; He humped his bluey by the name of `Dunn of Nevertire'.
`I've heard he's poor, and if he is, a proud old fool is he; But, spite of that, I'll find a way to fix the old gum-tree.
I've bought a station in the North -- the best that could be had; I want a man to pick the stock -- I want a super bad; I want no bully-brute to boss -- no crawling, sneaking liar -- My station super's name shall be `Jack Dunn of Nevertire'! Straight Dunn of Nevertire, Old Dunn of Nevertire; I guess he's known up Queensland way -- Jack Dunn of Nevertire.
' The super said, while to his face a strange expression came: `I THINK I've seen the man you want, I THINK I know the name; Had he a jolly kind of face, a free and careless way, Gray eyes that always seem'd to smile, and hair just turning gray -- Clean-shaved, except a light moustache, long-limbed, an' tough as wire?' `THAT'S HIM! THAT'S DUNN!' the stranger roared, `Jack Dunn of Nevertire! John Dunn of Nevertire, Jack D.
from Nevertire, They said I'd find him here, the cuss! -- Jack Dunn of Nevertire.
`I'd know his walk,' the stranger cried, `though sobered, I'll allow.
' `I doubt it much,' the boss replied, `he don't walk that way now.
' `Perhaps he don't!' the stranger said, `for years were hard on Jack; But, if he were a mile away, I swear I'd know his back.
' `I doubt it much,' the super said, and sadly puffed his briar, `I guess he wears a pair of wings -- Jack Dunn of Nevertire; Jack Dunn of Nevertire, Brave Dunn of Nevertire, He caught a fever nursing me, Jack Dunn of Nevertire.
' We took the stranger round to where a gum-tree stood alone, And in the grass beside the trunk he saw a granite stone; The names of Dunn and Nevertire were plainly written there -- `I'm all broke up,' the stranger said, in sorrow and despair, `I guess he has a wider run, the man that I require; He's got a river-frontage now, Jack Dunn of Nevertire; Straight Dunn of Nevertire, White Jack from Nevertire, I guess Saint Peter knew the name of `Dunn of Nevertire'.
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