DECLAMATION PIECES (for males) CASABLANCA There was a great battle at sea. Once could hear nothing but the roars of the big guns. The air was filled with black smoke. The water was strewn with broken masts and pieces of timber, which the canon balls had knocked from the ships. Many men had been killed, and many more had been wounded. The flagship had taken fire. The flames were breakin’ out from below. The deck was ablaze. The men who were left alive made haste to launch a small boat. The leaped into it, and rowed swiftly away. Any other place was safer now than on board of the burning ship. There was powder in the hold. But the captain’s son. Young Casablanca, still stood upon the deck. The flames were almost all around him now but he would not stir from his post. His father had bidden him stand there, and he had been taught always to obey. He trusted in his father’s word, and believed that when the right time came, he would tell him to go. He saw the men leap into the boat. He heard them call to him to come. He shook his head. "When father bids me, I will go", he said. And now, the flames were leaping up the masts. The sails were all ablaze. The fire blew hot upon his cheek. It scorched his hair. It was before him, behind all around him. "Oh Father," he cried, "may I not go now? The men have all left the ship. Is it not the time that we, too, should leave it?" He did not know that his father was lying in the burning cabin below, that a cannon ball had struck him at the very beginning of the fight. He listened to hear his answer. "Speak louder, Father," he cried, "I cannot hear what you say". Above the roaring of the flames, above the crashing of the falling spars, above the booming of the guns, he fancied that his father’s voice came faintly to him through the scorching air. "I am here, Father. Speak once again," he gasped. A great flash of light fills the air; clouds of smoke shoot quickly upward to the sky and — BOOM! Oh, what a terrific sound. Louder than thunder, louder than the roar of all guns. The air quivers: the see itself trembles; the sky is black. The blazing ship is seen no more. There was powder in the hold. THE FACE UPON THE FLOOR Twas a balmy summer evening and a goodly crowd was there, Which well-nigh filled Joe’s barroom, on the corner of the square; And as songs and witty stories Came through the open door, A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor. "Where did it come from?" someone said. "The wind has blown it in." "What does it want?" another cried. "Some whiskey, or rum or gin?" "Here, Toby, sic ‘em, if your stomach’s equal to the work– I wouldn’t touch him with a fork, he’s filthy as a Turk." This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical good grace; In fact, he smiled as tho’ he thought he’d struck the proper place. "Come, boys, I know there’s kindly hearts among so good a crowd– To be in such good company would make a deacon proud. "Give me a drink–that’s what I want… I’m out of funds, you know, When I had cash to treat the gang this hand was never slow. What? You laugh as if you thought this pocket never held a sou; I once was fixed as well, my boys, as any one of you. "There, thanks, that’s braced me nicely, God bless you one and all; Next time I pass this good saloon, I’ll make another call. Give you a song? No, I can’t do that, my singing days are past; My voice is cracked, my throat’s worn out and my lungs are going fast. "I’ll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too. Say! Give me another whiskey and I’ll tell you what I’ll do… That I was ever a decent man not one of you would think; But I was, some four or five years back. Say, give me another drink. "Fill her up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame– Such little drinks to a bum like me are miserably tame; Five fingers… there, that’s the scheme… and corking whiskey, too. Well, here’s luck, boys and landlord… my best regards to you. "You’ve treated me pretty kindly and I’d like to tell you true How I came to be the dirty sot, you see before you now. As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame, and health, And but for a blunder ought to have made, considerable wealth. "I was a painter, not one that daubed on bricks and wood, But an artist, and for my age, was rated pretty good. I worked hard at my canvas and was bidding fair to rise, For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes. "I made a picture perhaps you’ve seen, ’tis called the ‘Chase of Fame’. It brought me fifteen hundred pounds and added to my name, And then I met a woman… now comes the funny part– With eyes that petrified my brain and sunk into my heart. "Why don’t you laugh? ’tis funny that the vagabond you see Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me; But ’twas so, and for a month or two, her smiles were freely given, And when her loving lips touched mine, it carried me to Heaven. "Boys, did you ever see a girl for whom your soul you’d give, With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful to live.
Posted on: Sun, 21 Jul 2013 10:17:02 +0000
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