Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)

At the Golden Pig

Where once with lads I scoffed my beer
The landlord's lass I've wed.
Now I am lord and master here;--
Thank God! the old man's dead.
I stand behind a blooming bar
With belly like a tub,
And pals say, seeing my cigar:
'Bill's wed a pub.'

I wonder now if I did well,
My freedom for to lose;
Knowing my wife is fly as hell
I mind my 'Ps' and 'Qs'.
Oh what a fuss she made because
I tweaked the barmaid's bub:
Alas! a sorry day it was
I wed a pub.

Fat landlord of the Golden Pig,
They call me 'mister' now;
And many a mug of beer I swig,
Yet don't get gay, somehow.
So farmer fellows, lean and clean
Who sweat to earn your grub,
Although you haven't got a bean:
Don't wed a pub.

1. Portent
2. The Front Tooth
3. The Bulls
4. The Wee Shop
5. L'Envoi (Ever in the ebb and flow)

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1381

Последние стихотворения

To English version