"
"They are buying your work, not your insurance policies, dear child,"
said the Nilghai.
"They are buying your work, not your insurance policies, dear child,"
said the Nilghai.
Kipling - Poems
Go on, Nilghai.
"
"The first land we made it was called the Deadman," and they sang to the
end very vigourously.
"That would be a better song if her head were turned the other way--to
the Ushant light, for instance," said the Nilghai.
"Flinging his arms about like a mad windmill," said Torpenhow. "Give us
something else, Nilghai. You're in fine fog-horn form tonight. "
"Give us the 'Ganges Pilot'; you sang that in the square the night
before El-Maghrib. By the way, I wonder how many of the chorus are alive
tonight," said Dick.
Torpenhow considered for a minute. "By Jove! I believe only you and I.
Raynor, Vicery, and Deenes--all dead; Vincent caught smallpox in Cairo,
carried it here and died of it. Yes, only you and I and the Nilghai. "
"Umph! And yet the men here who've done their work in a well-warmed
studio all their lives, with a policeman at each corner, say that I
charge too much for my pictures.
"
"They are buying your work, not your insurance policies, dear child,"
said the Nilghai.
"I gambled with one to get at the other. Don't preach. Go on with the
'Pilot. ' Where in the world did you get that song? "
"On a tombstone," said the Nilghai. "On a tombstone in a distant land. I
made it an accompaniment with heaps of base chords. "
"Oh, Vanity! Begin. " And the Nilghai began--
"I have slipped my cable, messmates, I'm drifting down with the tide, I
have my sailing orders, while yet at anchor ride. And never on fair June
morning have I put out to sea With clearer conscience or better hope, or
a heart more light and free.
"Shoulder to shoulder, Joe, my boy, into the crowd like a wedge. Strike
with the hangers, messmates, but do not cut with the edge. " Cries
Charnock, "Scatter the faggots, double that Brahmin in two, The tall
pale widow for me, Joe, the little brown girl for you! "
"Young Joe (you're nearing sixty), why is your hide so dark?
"The first land we made it was called the Deadman," and they sang to the
end very vigourously.
"That would be a better song if her head were turned the other way--to
the Ushant light, for instance," said the Nilghai.
"Flinging his arms about like a mad windmill," said Torpenhow. "Give us
something else, Nilghai. You're in fine fog-horn form tonight. "
"Give us the 'Ganges Pilot'; you sang that in the square the night
before El-Maghrib. By the way, I wonder how many of the chorus are alive
tonight," said Dick.
Torpenhow considered for a minute. "By Jove! I believe only you and I.
Raynor, Vicery, and Deenes--all dead; Vincent caught smallpox in Cairo,
carried it here and died of it. Yes, only you and I and the Nilghai. "
"Umph! And yet the men here who've done their work in a well-warmed
studio all their lives, with a policeman at each corner, say that I
charge too much for my pictures.
"
"They are buying your work, not your insurance policies, dear child,"
said the Nilghai.
"I gambled with one to get at the other. Don't preach. Go on with the
'Pilot. ' Where in the world did you get that song? "
"On a tombstone," said the Nilghai. "On a tombstone in a distant land. I
made it an accompaniment with heaps of base chords. "
"Oh, Vanity! Begin. " And the Nilghai began--
"I have slipped my cable, messmates, I'm drifting down with the tide, I
have my sailing orders, while yet at anchor ride. And never on fair June
morning have I put out to sea With clearer conscience or better hope, or
a heart more light and free.
"Shoulder to shoulder, Joe, my boy, into the crowd like a wedge. Strike
with the hangers, messmates, but do not cut with the edge. " Cries
Charnock, "Scatter the faggots, double that Brahmin in two, The tall
pale widow for me, Joe, the little brown girl for you! "
"Young Joe (you're nearing sixty), why is your hide so dark?
