Full Online Books
BOOK CATEGORIES
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
LINKS
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
donate
Full Online Book HomePoemsCommanders Of The Faithful
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Commanders Of The Faithful Post by :Tuddy Category :Poems Author :William Makepeace Thackeray Date :November 2010 Read :1726

Click below to download : Commanders Of The Faithful (Format : PDF)

Commanders Of The Faithful

The Pope he is a happy man,
His Palace is the Vatican,
And there he sits and drains his can:
The Pope he is a happy man.
I often say when I'm at home,
I'd like to be the Pope of Rome.

And then there's Sultan Saladin,
That Turkish Soldan full of sin;
He has a hundred wives at least,
By which his pleasure is increased:
I've often wished, I hope no sin,
That I were Sultan Saladin.

But no, the Pope no wife may choose,
And so I would not wear his shoes;
No wine may drink the proud Paynim,
And so I'd rather not be him:
My wife, my wine, I love, I hope,
And would be neither Turk nor Pope.


(The end)
William Makepeace Thackeray's poem: Commanders Of The Faithful

If you like this book please share to your friends :
NEXT BOOKS

When Moonlike Ore The Hazure Seas When Moonlike Ore The Hazure Seas

When Moonlike Ore The Hazure Seas
When moonlike ore the hazure seas In soft effulgence swells,When silver jews and balmy breaze Bend down the Lily's bells;When calm and deap, the rosy sleep Has lapt your soal in dreems,R Hangeline! R lady mine! Dost thou remember Jeames?I mark thee in the Marble All, Where England's loveliest shine--I say the fairest of them hall Is Lady Hangeline.My soul, in desolate eclipse, With recollection teems--And then I hask, with weeping lips, Dost thou remember Jeames?Away! I may not tell thee hall This soughring heart endures--There is a lonely sperrit-call That Sorrow never cures;There is a little, little Star, That still
PREVIOUS BOOKS

Dear Jack Dear Jack

Dear Jack
Dear Jack, this white mug that with Guinness I fill,And drink to the health of sweet Nan of the Hill,Was once Tommy Tosspot's, as jovial a sotAs e'er drew a spigot, or drain'd a full pot--In drinking all round 'twas his joy to surpass,And with all merry tipplers he swigg'd off his glass.One morning in summer, while seated so snug,In the porch of his garden, discussing his jug,Stern Death, on a sudden, to Tom did appear,And said, "Honest Thomas, come take your last bier."We kneaded his clay in the shape of this can,From which let us drink to the health of
NEXT 10 BOOKS | PREVIOUS 10 BOOKS | RANDOM 10 BOOKS
LEAVE A COMMENT