Today is the birthdate of Felicia Dorothea Hemans, born in 1793. She wrote at least one well known poem, Casabianca, based on an historical incident: “Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son of the admiral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the Battle of the Nile), after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned; and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder.”
The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle’s wreck
Shone round him o’er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.
The flames rolled on–he would not go
Without his Father’s word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud–’say, Father, say
If yet my task is done?’
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
‘Speak, father!’ once again he cried,
‘If I may yet be gone!’
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.
Read the rest of the poem, including the tragic ending.
Ms. Hemans’ poem has been remembered so long mainly because of its parodists:
The boy stood on the burning deck,
The flames ’round him did roar;
He found a bar of Ivory Soap
And washed himself ashore.
The boy stood on the burning deck
Eating peanuts by the peck;
His father called, he would not go
Because he loved those peanuts so.
The boy stood on the burning duck
A stupid thing to do
Because the duck was roasting
On the barbecue.
The boy stood on the burning deck
Playing a game of cricket,
The ball flew down his trouser leg
And hit his middle wicket.
The boy stood on the burning deck,
His heart was a all a-twitter,
He stood ’till he could stand no more,
And became a crispy critter.
Spike Milligan:
The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled –
The twit!
The two paintings of the Battle of the Nile are by George Arnaud or Arnold(?).
And one more I learned as a child (either from Looney Tunes or Little Rascals):
The boy stood on the burning deck,
His feet were full of blisters.
He tore his pants on a rusty nail,
And now he wears his sister’s.
The boy stood on the burning deck
Eating peanuts by the peck;
The fire rolled up and touched his chin but still he poked the peanuts in
Pingback: Susan Taylor Brown – Poetry Friday
The Boy stood on the burning deck,
with mustard pouring down his neck.
The boy stood on the burning deck,
Eating peanuts by the dozen.
His feet got hot,
his hands got toasted,
but he didn’t mind,
he liked his peanuts roasted.
The boy stood on the burning deck
Picking his nose like mad
Rolling them into little balls
And flicking them at his dad.
My stepfather, born in NYC in 1911, had a parody from years ago:
“The boy stood on the burning deck,
His pants were all afire.”
I don’t remember the next line but it involved the boy urinating “And that put out the fire.”
When my mother was 5 years old, her mother sent her to elocution lessons so she would learn to “speak like a lady.” At the end of the first class all of the children were given the assignment to go home and memorize a poem. They were told that when they returned the next week, they would be asked to recite their poem in front of the entire class.
When my mom returned home, her three older brothers were delighted to teach her the following poem.
A girl stood on the railroad track.
The train let out steam.
A burning coal flew up her hole,
And burnt her magazine.
My mother was kicked out of elocution lessons and that was the end of that.
My father would recite this doggerel when I was a boy, circa 1952, whenever we would ride the Staten Island Ferry across New York harbor:
The boy stood on the burning deck,
Eating peanuts by the peck.
He turned his face into the sun,
And the breeze blew through his whiskers.