The Ragged School at the Pantomime. Sydney. poem and images. 1882.

The Ragged School at the  Pantomime.

Dirty and ragged, and wild and rude,
Yet you know by their faces a jubilant brood:
As merry, in sooth, as the babes who cling
To a golden mother, a glittering ring.

Glory and glamour and mirth and light
Are their own through the hours of that blessed night.
Packed in the gallery, row and row,
Over the heads of the crowd below;

They look, and they laugh, and they shout and sing
At the wonderful life of the fairy king.
The fairy king with his golden crown,
And the grim black goblin there crouching down,

And the giant as tall as the tallest gum,
And the dwarf just as big as the giant's thumb.
Then the fairy queen ! Was there ever seen
Such a wonderful sight as that fairy queen.

With scarf of crimson, and robe of blue,
And diamond buckles on either shoe;
And a crown of gold in her golden hair
And her face as the face of an angel fair.

And the palm trees branching in boughs of gold,
And the blue sky over the picture rolled,
Lit by strange planets that gleam and glow
Like the coloured lamps in the lake below.

Loudly the urchins will shout and dance,
As the trumpets sound and the troops advance,
And the grim black goblin and giant tall,
To witches and dragons and monsters call,

And the big guns fire and the fight begins,
But the good king's army the battle wins.
Then the drums all beat, and the joy bells ring,
And the princess marries the fairy king.

Are they happy up there in their rags and tags,
Their ribbon-less bonnets and shapeless bags
Are they happy ? Why ask ? They can take their stand,
For an hour in the marvels of fairy land.

Are they happy ? A fool might an answer seek
From eyes that marvel and lips that speak.
Some ragged young rascal's fist may rise;
He would like to blacken his fellow's eyes !
But he's only mad 'cos that 'bother now
"Won't stop for a second his precious row."

They are happy ; ah, friend, do you love to see
That loveable sight of a young child's glee ?
Then think of the children whose lives scarce know,
A day that is shadeless or free from woe,
And give them a chance at this Christmas time,
To laugh till they cry at the pantomime.

Francis Myers.