Poems with rhymes of whine

Who can the bonds of your kin define?
Plead ye beggars, and jest ye wags!
'Nay, beggar brother, why dost thou whine?

It isn't the bullets that whine;
It isn't the business career
Of a shell, or the bust of a mine;

When her sirens frightened whine
Shows her sheering out of line;

Then I'll sit down an' start to whine
That all the hard luck here is mine.

More dark houses, yet no sign
Of life....And axle's creak and whine....

But then, next morning, how he'd sigh and whine
When you as frankly told him it was nine;

Then wherefore should we sigh and whine,
With groundless jealousy repine,

You can hear right down the line
E'er the same old Tory whine

Small respect for cant and whine,
Bigot's zeal and hate malign,

And listened to your whine;
I only wish you’d sent it in
Before I printed mine.

Dey's trouble gon' to waste when de old slut whine,
An' you heah de cat a-spittin' when de moon don't shine!

Last trotted forth the gentle swine,
To ease her itch against the stump,
And dismally was heard to whine,

'E sez 'e's fat inside; 'e starts to whine;
'E sez 'e wants to dror the colour line.

What made her look so stealthily both up and down the line,
And quickly give the infant suck to still its puny whine?

Not one of hers is mine;
She laughs -- while I must sigh;
She sighs -- while I must whine.

There's a chum that you can go to when you feel inclined to whine,
He'll declare your coat is tidy, and he'll say: `Just look at mine!'

For when the Barons waited on him, asking him to sign
The grand old Magna Charta, did he hesitate and whine?

But you never hear her do a growl or whine,
For she's made of flint and roses, very odd;
And I've got to cut my meaning rather fine,

And then--my very throat seemed choked, for he began to whine
With pain--God knows how tenderly I took that dog of mine

What a pretty, red line!
Tell the taverns that scar
Was an honour. Don't whine