The Dead Man Walking

by Thomas Hardy

They hail me as one living,

But don't they know
That I have died of late years,
Untombed although?

I am but a shape that stands here,

A pulseless mould,
A pale past picture, screening
Ashes gone cold.

Not at a minute's warning,

Not in a loud hour,
For me ceased Time's enchantments
In hall and bower.

There was no tragic transit,

No catch of breath,
When silent seasons inched me
On to this death ....

�A Troubadour-youth I rambled
With Life for lyre,
The beats of being raging
In me like fire.

But when I practised eyeing

The goal of men,
It iced me, and I perished
A little then.

When passed my friend, my kinsfolk,

Through the Last Door,
And left me standing bleakly,
I died yet more;

And when my Love's heart kindled

In hate of me,
Wherefore I knew not, died I
One more degree.

And if when I died fully

I cannot say,
And changed into the corpse-thing
I am to-day,

Yet is it that, though whiling

The time somehow
In walking, talking, smiling,
I live not now.

The Pelagian Drinking Song

by Hillaire Belloc

Pelagius lived at Kardanoel

And taught a doctrine there
How, whether you went to heaven or to hell
It was your own affair.
It had nothing to do with the Church, my boy,
But was your own affair.

No, he didn't believe

In Adam and Eve
He put no faith therein!
His doubts began
With the Fall of Man
And he laughed at Original Sin.
With my row-ti-tow
Ti-oodly-ow
He laughed at original sin.

Then came the bishop of old Auxerre

Germanus was his name
He tore great handfuls out of his hair
And he called Pelagius shame.
And with his stout Episcopal staff
So thoroughly whacked and banged
The heretics all, both short and tall�
They rather had been hanged.

Oh he whacked them hard, and he banged them long

Upon each and all occasions
Till they bellowed in chorus, loud and strong
Their orthodox persuasions.
With my row-ti-tow
Ti-oodly-ow
Their orthodox persuasions.

Now the faith is old and the Devil bold

Exceedingly bold indeed.
And the masses of doubt that are floating about
Would smother a mortal creed.
But we that sit in a sturdy youth
And still can drink strong ale
Let us put it away to infallible truth
That always shall prevail.

And thank the Lord

For the temporal sword
And howling heretics too.
And all good things
Our Christendom brings
But especially barley brew!
With my row-ti-tow
Ti-oodly-ow
Especially barley brew!