Chesterton and politics



They babble on of Babylon,

They tire me out with Tyre,

And Sidon putting side on,

I do not much admire.

But the little town Bob-up-and-Down,

That lies beyond the Blee,

Along the road our fathers rode,

O that’s the road for me.


In dome and spire and cupola

It bubbles up and swells

For the company that canter

To the Canterbury Bells.

But when the Land Surveyors come

With maps and books to write,

The little town Bob-up-and-Down

It bobs down out of sight.


I cannot live in Liverpool,

O lead me not to Leeds,

I’m not a Man in Manchester,

Though men be cheap as weeds:

But the little town Bob-up-and-Down,

That bobs towards the sea,

And knew its name when Chaucer came,

O that’s the town for me.


I’ll go and eat my Christmas meat

In that resurgent town,

And pledge to fame our Father’s name

Till the sky bobs up and down;

That’s played beside the Blee,

Bob-Apple in Bob-up-and-Down,

O that’s the game for me.


Now Huddersfield is Shuddersfield,

And Hull is nearly Hell,

Where a Daisy would go crazy

Or a Canterbury Bell.

The little town Bob-up-and-Down

Alone is fair and free,

For it can’t be found above the ground,

O that’s the place for me.

~ G.K. Chesterton


About Nolie Alcarturiel

Creative Writing major and Philosophy minor, contemplating a Master's degree in Medieval History. I enjoy practically anything to do with medieval history, including the domestic arts, with an especial emphasis on the Anglo-Saxon Era. In my spare time I read endlessly, do medieval living-history, hold philosophical debates at the drop of a hat, and write books on even slighter provocation.
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2 Responses to Chesterton and politics

  1. thegermangolux says:

    The time has come, the Walrus said,
    To talk of many things,
    Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax,
    Of cabbages, and kings
    And why the sea is boiling hot,
    And whether pigs have wings.
    ~Lewis Carroll


    • noliealcarturiel says:

      Oh, the world will sing of an American
      A thousand years from now,
      And not because he passed some laws
      Or had that lofty brow. . .

      Incredible as he is inept,
      Wherever the history books are kept
      They’ll call him the phony king of. . . somewhere. Is there a two-syllable name for America?


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