The Rubàiyàt of Ohow Dryyàm

Copyrighted 1922
by Leedon Publishing Company
Leedon Publishing Company
405 flood building
san francisco

THE
RUBAIYAT
OF
OHOW DRYYAM
By J. L. DUFF
With Apologies to
OMAR
Illustrated by
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
[Not of Philadelphia]

The Rubaiyat of Ohow Dryyam

I

Wail! for the Law has scattered into flight

Those Drinks that were our sometime dear Delight;

And still the Morals-tinkers plot and plan

New, sterner, stricter Statutes to indite.

II

After the phantom of our Freedom died

Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried:

“Drink coffee, Lads, for that is all that’s left

Since our Land of the Free is washed—and dried.”

And still the Morals-tinkers plot and plan
New, sterner, stricter Statutes to indite.

III

The Haigs indeed are gone, and on the Nose

That bourgeoned once with color of the rose

A deathly Pallor sits, while down the lane

Where once strode Johnny Walker—Water goes.

IV

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Coffee-house

We’ll learn a new and temperate Carouse—

The Bird of Time flies with a steadier wing

But roosts with sleepless Eye—a Coffee Souse!

V

Each morn a thousand Recipes, you say—

Yes, but where match the beer of Yesterday?

And those Spring Months that used to bring the Bock

Seem very long ago and far away.

The Bird of Time flies with a steadier wing
But roosts with sleepless Eye—a Coffee Souse!

VI

A Book of Blue Laws underneath the Bough,

A pot of Tea, a piece of Toast,—and Thou

Beside me sighing in the Wilderness—

Wilderness? It’s Desert, Sister, now.

VII

Some for a Sunday without Taint, and Some

Sigh for Inebriate Paradise to come,

While Moonshine takes the Cash (no Credit goes)

And real old Stuff demands a Premium.

A Book of Blue Laws underneath the Bough,
A pot of Tea, a piece of Toast,—and Thou ...

VIII

The Scanty Stock we set our hearts upon

Still dwindles and declines until anon,

Like Snow upon the Desert’s dusty Face,

It lights us for an hour and then—is gone.

IX

Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears

Today of past Regrets and future Fears—

Tomorrow!—Why, Tomorrow I may be

In Canada or Scotland or Algiers!

X

Yes, make the most of what we still may spend;

The last Drop’s lingering Taste may yet transcend

Anticipation’s Bliss—though we are left

Sans Wine, Sans Song, Sans Singer, and—Sans End.

The Scanty Stock we set our hearts upon ...

XI

Alike for those who for the Drouth prepared

And those who, like myself, more poorly fared,

Fond Memory weaves Roseate Shrouds to dress

Departed Spirits we have loved—and shared.

XII

Myself when young did eagerly frequent

The gilded Bar, and all my Lucre spent

For bottled Joyousness, but evermore

Came out less steadily than in I went.

XIII

The legal Finger writes; and having writ,

Moves on—and neither Thirst nor Wit

Has lured it back to cancel half a line

To give a Man excuse for being lit.

Myself when young did eagerly frequent
The gilded Bar ...

XIV

And Bill the Bootlegger—the Infidel!—

When He takes my last Cent for just a Smell

Of Hooch, I wonder what Bootleggers buy

One half so precious as the Stuff they sell.

XV

Oh Bill, Who dost with White Mule and with Gin

Beset the Road I am to Wander in,

If I am garnered of the Law, wilt Thou,

All piously, Impute my Fall to Sin?

And Bill the Bootlegger—the Infidel!—

XVI

Yon rising Moon that looks for us again—

How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;

But, Oh, how oft before we have beheld

Six Moons arise—who now seek Two in vain.

XVII

And when Thyself at last shall come to trip

Down that dim Dock where Charon loads his Ship,

I’ll meet Thee on the other Wharf if Thou

Wilt promise to have Something on thy Hip.

But, Oh, how oft before we have beheld
Six Moons arise ...