Maxioms by Rudyard Kipling
Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass,
And her ropes are taut with the dew,
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Her plates are scarred by the sun, dear lass,
And her ropes are taut with the dew,
For we're booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out
trail,
We're sagging south on the Long Trail, the trail that is always
new.
But that's another story.
But that's another story.
And the talk slid north, and the talk slid south
With the sliding puffs from the hookah-mouth;
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And the talk slid north, and the talk slid south
With the sliding puffs from the hookah-mouth;
Four things greater than all things are--
Women and Horses and Power and War.
High noon behind the tamarisks, the sun is hot above us--
As at home the Christmas Day is breaking read more
High noon behind the tamarisks, the sun is hot above us--
As at home the Christmas Day is breaking wan,
They will drink our healths at dinner, those who tell us how they
love us,
And forget us till another year be gone!
