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Pine,
Rose and Fleur de Lis
by
Susie Frances Harrison
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THE
BEGGARS OF COTE BEAUPRE
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| Here
they come, whining and wailing, the Beggars of Côte
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Beaupré! |
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Lazy
as limp Lazzaroni, an indigent herd,
Mouthing and mumbling and making a hell of the free
highway.
Trembling, importunate, ragged, each in his vile
array.
Blear-ey’d and bloodshot, both vision and
intellect blurr’d,
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5 |
| Here
they come, whining and wailing, the Beggars of Côte
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Beaupré.
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“After” some very old master, a Teniers
or Dyck in his day,
Perfect in patches, in palms all horny and furr’d,
Mouthing and mumbling and making a hell of the
free highway;
Limping and lounging and breathing the breath
of their own
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decay, |
10 |
Each
as the ghost of the other, frail shell and foul
sherd,
Here they come, whining and wailing, the Beggars
of Côte |
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Beaupré.
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Or Sidon, or Tyre, or Capernaum never were wont
to display
More pure archetypal road paupers by no man deterr’d,
Mouthing and mumbling and making a hell of the free
highway.
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15 |
Brushing the red-fruited orchards all laden with
apples so gay,
And harbouring many a butterfly, many a bird,
Here they come, whining and wailing, the Beggars
of Côte |
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Beaupré,
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| Mouthing
and mumbling and making a hell of the free highway. |
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