 |
|
|
THE MOTHER LODGE
There was Rundle, Station Master,
An' Beazeley of the Rail,
An' 'Ackman, Commissariat,
An' Donkin' o' the Jail;
An' Blake, Conductor-Sargent,
Our Master twice was 'e,
With 'im that kept the Europe-shop,
Old Framjee Eduljee.
Outside -- "Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!"
Inside -- "Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm.
We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square,
An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!
We'd Bola Nath, Accountant,
An' Saul the Aden Jew,
An' Din Mohammed, draughtsman
Of the Survey Office too;
There was Babu Chuckerbutty,
An' Amir Singh the Sikh,
An' Castro from the fittin'-sheds,
The Roman Catholick!
We 'adn't good regalia,
An' our Lodge was old an' bare,
But we knew the Ancient Landmarks,
An' we kep' 'em to a hair;
An' lookin' on it backwards
It often strikes me thus,
There ain't such things as infidels,
Excep', per'aps, it's us.
For monthly, after Labour,
We'd all sit down and smoke
(We dursn't give no banquits,
Lest a Brother's caste were broke),
An' man on man got talkin'
Religion an' the rest,
An' every man comparin'
Of the God 'e knew the best.
So man on man got talkin',
An' not a Brother stirred
Till mornin' waked the parrots
An' that dam' brain-fever-bird;
We'd say 'twas 'ighly curious,
An' we'd all ride 'ome to bed,
With Mo'ammed, God, an' Shiva
Changin' pickets in our 'ead.
Full oft on Guv'ment service
This rovin' foot 'ath pressed,
An' bore fraternal greetin's
To the Lodges east an' west,
Accordin' as commanded
From Kohat to Singapore,
But I wish that I might see them
In my Mother-Lodge once more!
I wish that I might see them,
My Brethren black an' brown,
With the trichies smellin' pleasant
An' the hog-darn passin' down; [Cigar-lighter.]
An' the old khansamah snorin' [Butler.]
On the bottle-khana floor, [Pantry.]
Like a Master in good standing
With my Mother-Lodge once more!
Outside -- "Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!"
Inside -- "Brother", an' it doesn't do no 'arm.
We met upon the Level an' we parted on the Square,
An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there! Rudyard Kipling |
|
|
|
|
BANQUET NIGHT
"Once in so often," King Solomon said,
Watching his quarrymen drill the stone,
"We will club our garlic and wine and bread
And banquet together beneath my throne.
And all the Brethren shall come to that mess
As Fellow Craftsmen--no more and no less.
"Send a swift shallop to Hiram of Tyre,
Felling and floating our beautiful trees,
Say that the brethren and I desire
Talk with our Brethren who use the seas.
And we shall be happy to meet them at mess
As Fellow Craftsmen--no more and no less.
"Carry this message to Hiram Abif--
Excellent Master of forge and mine:
I and the Brethren would like it if
He and the Brethren will come to dine
(Garments from Bozrah or morning-dress)
As Fellow Craftsmen--no more and no less.
"God gave the Hyssop and Cedar their place--
Also the Bramble, the Fig and the Thorn--
But that is no reason to black a man's Face
Because he is not what he hasn't been born.
And, as touching the Temple, I hold and Profess
We are Fellow Craftsmen--no more no less."
So it was ordered and so it was done,
And the hewers of wood and the Masons of Mark
With foc'sle hands of the Sidon run
And Navy Lords from the Royal Ark,
Came and sat down and were merry at mess
As Fellow Craftsmen--no more and no less.
The Quarries are hotter than Hiram's forge,
No one is safe from the dog-whips' reach.
It's mostly snowing up Lebanon gorge,
And it's always blowing off Joppa beach;
But once in so often, the messenger brings
Solomon's mandate: "Forget these things!
Brother to Beggars and Fellow to Kings,
Companion of Princes-forget these things!
Fellow Craftsman, forget these things!" Rudyard Kipling |
|
|
|
|
THE OLD MASTER'S WAGES
I met a dear old man today,
Who wore a Masonic pin,
It was old and faded like the man,
It's edges were worn quite thin.
I approached the park bench where he sat,
To give the old brother his due,
I said, "I see you've traveled east,"
He said, "I have, have you."
I said, "I have, and in my day
Before the all seeing sun,
I played in the rubble, with Jubala
Jubalo and Jubalum."
He shouted, "don't laugh at the work my son,
It's good and sweet and true,
And if you've traveled as you said,
You should give these things their due."
The word, the sign the token,
The sweet Masonic prayer,
The vow that all have taken,
Who've climbed the inner stair.
The wages of a Mason,
are never paid in gold,
but the gain comes from contentment,
when you're weak and growing old.
You see, I've carried my obligations,
For almost fifty years,
It has helped me through the hardships
and the failures full of tears.
Now I'm losing my mind and body,
Death is near but I don't despair,
I've lived my life upon the level,
And I'm dying upon the square.
Sometimes the greatest lessons
Are those that are learned anew,
And the old man in the park today
has changed my point of view.
To all Masonic brothers,
The only secret is to care,
May you live your life upon the level,
May you part upon the square.
N. Neddermeyer
|
|
|
|
|
THE BADGE OF A MASON - T H E L A M B S K I N APRON
AUTHOR UNKNOWN
It is not ornamental; its cost is not great,
There are things far more useful, yet truly I state
That of all my possessions none can compare
With the White Leather Apron, that all Masons wear.
As a young lad I wondered, just what it all meant,
When Dad hustled around, and so much time was spent
In shaving and dressing and looking just right.
Until Mother would say, it’s the Masons tonight.
Sometimes Mother would say, Dad what makes you go,
Way up there tonight, through the sleet and snow;
You see the same things each night of the year.
And then Dad would say, Yes, I know my dear;
Each time I see the same things, it is true,
Though they be old, they always seem new,
For each hand that I clasp, each friend that I greet
Seem just a little closer, each time that we meet.
Years later I stood at that very same door,
With good men and true, who had entered before,
Kneeled at the Altar, and there I was taught.
That Virtue and Honor can never be bought.
That there on the level, men meet and abide.
That wealth and position, is all cast aside.
So Honor the Lambskin, and may it remain,
Forever, untarnished, and free from all stain.
So that when we are called to the Grand Architects Love
We will meet him up there, in that Grand Lodge above.
|
|
