VICE-VERSA

ANOTHER VIEW OF LIFE.

Some ne’er help if they can help it.
They sooner would congratulate
Anyone who is successful.
For truth and right they don’t wrestle.
Without a standard of their own
They form a crowd of hangers-on.
Preferring beggar patronage
To work and live for honest wage.
To favour such a populace
By subsidies weakens the race
And leads to loss of self-respect
And worse, till all at last expect
To live on these continued doles
Unearned – demoralised, poor souls.
Oh! shall our days repeat the tale
Which ancient histories unveil
How Rome fell through such increments,
And lost her power by indigence
Of spirit! Then by self-relief
Let all proclaim their own belief
That God helps those with wise advice
Who others help by sacrifice;
Thus speaks the great Almighty One
“Man doth not live by bread alone.”
In times like these man’s dignity
Appears in his integrity;
Men shape their sphere to their liking.
Yet none can make himself a King
Better is he who rules himself
Than he who lives for worldly pelf
The triumph of self-interest
To-day brings us direct unrest,
Requiring instant demurrage
Paid for each acquired advantage
The alternative to “measures”
Is not “men” but increased treasures;
A contrast to church life and deeds
The patient fruit of laws and creeds.
Yet he who “saves” shall lose the life
That does subsist through kindly strife.
Base projects like foot-prints in sand.
Cannot the rising tide withstand
For, fickle and self-centred he
Finds none to stand him company,
Such seeks to be an Ishmaelite.
Yet shudders at an Anchorite.
“I am. What am I? What I seem
To be or am?” For life’s a dream
To all who hide their soul from view
‘Tis vain to be a double-you
Each signature does signify
That you are you and I am I
As each man thinketh so is he
So show your personality
The signs of worldliness for mint
Are “Awful boys, but money in’t”
Oh! damnable indifference
And consciousness of consequences
It isn’t fair to live like this,
Selfish, soulless, without true bliss,
Have you no mother, sister, friend,
Who needs your help unto the end
Brother, rise and prove you can
Be a true noble gentleman
Then does in faith and win success
Who little does finds much grow less.

J. Townsley, Cullybackey 21st August 1920