Kindly refer to notes
Break, break, break,
of my bones both left and right,
and I would that my tongue could butter
rye bread, my teeth could bite !
O well for the Athlete’s foot
that knows not cramps nor corns,
O well for the shot that’s put,
that knows not crown of thorns !
O well for the hospital staff
that neither strikes nor snaps,
nor seeks not one last laugh
transfusing AIDS or craps !
Break, break, break
all epidemics soon,
lest mankind’s last mistake
prove Life is Time’s buffoon !
Author notes
Tennyson Parodies posted on AP - Enjoy !
Break Break Break http://allpoetry.com/poem/show/3349648
Fake Fake Fake http://allpoetry.com/poem/3349614
Rain Rain Rain http://allpoetry.com/poem/3348662
Stake Stake Stake http://allpoetry.com/poem/3349624
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Tennyson Original and Other Parodies
Break, Break, Break
Break, Break, Break,
On thy cold grey stones, O Sea !
And I would that my tongue could utter
the thoughts that arise in me.
O well for the fisherman’s boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play !
O well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay !
And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,
and the sound of a voice that is still !
Break, break break,
At the foot of thy crags, O sea !
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1809_1892
The Bather’s Dirge
Break, break, break,
on thy cold, hard stones, O sea !
and I hope that my tongue won’t utter
the curses that rise in me.
O well for the fisherman’s boy,
if he likes to be soused with the spray !
O well for the sailor lad,
as he paddles about in the bay !
And the ships swim happily on,
to their haven under the hill;
but O for a clutch of that vanished hand,
and a kick for I’m catching a chill !
Break, break, break,
at my poor bare feet, O sea !
but the artful scamp who has collar’d my clothes
will never come back to me.
Tennyson Minor
Parody Alfred TENNYSON – Break, Break, Break
The Lay of the Drenched One
Pelt, pelt, pelt,
on the cold wet earth, thou Rain !
While my tongue is about to utter
than anger that swells in my brain.
O well for the waterproof’d gent,
as he walks in his shiny array:
O well for the dandified swell,
as he drives in his cabriolet.
And the last lone bus rolls on,
as full as its guard can fill;
but O for the sight of a vanish’d cab,
and the sound of a wheel that’s still !
Pelt, pelt, pelt,
on the damp, drench’d streets, O Rain;
but the tender bloom of a dress-coat spoilt
will never return again.
John Collet Parody Alfred TENNYSON – Break, Break, Break
The Musical Pitch
Break, break, break,
O voice ! let me urge thy plea !
O, lower the Pitch, lest utter
despair be the end of me !
‘Tis well for the fiddles to squeak,
the bassoon to grunt in its play;
‘Twere well had I lungs of brass,
or that nothing but strings give way !
Break, break, break,
O voice ! I must urge thy plea !
for the tender skin of my larynx is torn
and fail in my upper G !
UNKNOWN Parody Alfred TENNYSON – Break, Break, Break
Hot, hot, hot
Hot, hot, hot,
is the blistering breath of June,
and I would that my throat could utter
an anti-torridness tune.
O well for the Esquimau
that he sits on a cake of ice !
O well for the polar bear
that he looks so cool and nice !
But the scorching heat pours down
and blisters both head and feet !
And O for the touch of vanished frost,
or the sound of some hail or sleet !
UNKNOWN
U.S.A. c. 1880 Parody Alfred TENNYSON – Break, Break, Break
The Lament of the Sleepless
Awake, awake, awake ! –
and the cold gray dawn I see !
and I would that sweet sleep would smother
the wide-open eyes of me !
O well for the portly police
as they tramp on their nightly way !
O well for the nightingale, too,
who can sleep the livelong day.
And the hateful hours go on, -
and return they never will;
but O for the snatch of a vanished sleep
and the sound of a snore that is still !
Break, break, break,
at the foot of my bed, O Dawn !
But I would give gold, in sums untold,
for the ghost of a snooze or a yawn.
George Alison Parody Alfred TENNYSON – Break, Break, Break
Break Break Break
Break, break, break,
in thy pantry, costly maid !
and I bitterly rue the hour
when I took you from Mrs. Slade.
‘Tis well for the lady fair
whose glass is unshattered yet !
‘tis well for the thrifty dame
who has ‘an unbroken set !’
And the clatter and crash goes on,
and Mary picks up the slain;
but O ! for that teacup of rarest Sèvres,
and that vase of porcelain !
Break, break, break,
in thy pantry, Mary G - !
but that costly vase and that teacup rare
will never come back to me !
F.B. Doveton Parody Alfred TENNYSON – Break, Break, Break
Snatches of Song 1880
Break Break Break
Fly, Muse, thy wonted themes, nor longer seek
The consolations of a powder’d cheek;
Forsake the busy purlieus of the Court
For calmer meads where finny tribes resort.
So may th’Almighty’s natural antidote
Abate the worldly tenor of thy note,
The various beauties of the liquid main
Refine thy reed and elevate thy strain.
See how the labour of the urgent oar
Propels the barks and draws them to the shore.
Hark ! from the margin of the azure bay
the joyful cries of infants at their play.
(The offspring of a piscatorial swain,
His home the sands, his pasturage the main.)
Yet none of these may sooth the mourning heart
Nor fond alleviation’s sweets impart;
Nor may the pow’rs of infants that rejoice
Restore the accents of a former voice,
Nor the bright smiles of ocean’s nymphs command
The pleasing contact of a vanished hand.
So let me still in mediation move,
Muse in the vale and ponder in the grove,
And scan the skies where sinking Phoebus glows
with hues more rubicund than Cibber’s nose ...
Sir John Collings SQUIRE 1884_1958
Parody Alfred TENNYSON Break, Break, Break & Alexander POPE
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