Английская поэзия


ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылкиАнтологии
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)


Hobo


A father's pride I used to know,
A mother's love was mine;
For swinish husks I let them go,
And bedded with the swine.
Since then I've come on evil days
And most of life is hell;
But even swine have winsome ways
When once you know them well.

One time I guessed I'd cease to roam,
And greet the folks again;
And so I rode the rods to home
And through the window pane
I saw them weary, worn and grey...
I gazed from the garden gloom,
And like sweet, shiny saints were they
Int taht sweet, shiny room.

D'ye think I hollored out: "Hullo!"
The prodigal to play,
And eat the fatted calf? Ah no,
I cursed and ran away.
My eyes were blears of whisky tears
As to a pub I ran:
But once at least I beat the beast
And proved myself a man.

Oh, some day I am going back,
But I'll have gold galore;
I'll wear a suit of sobber black
And knock upon the door.
I'l tell them how I've made a stake,
We'll have the grandest time...
"Say, Mister, give a guy a break:
For Chrissake, spare a dime."



Robert William Service's other poems:
  1. Music in the Bush
  2. The Rhyme of the Remittance Man
  3. The Little Old Log Cabin
  4. The Younger Son
  5. The March of the Dead


Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1685


Последние стихотворения


To English version


Рейтинг@Mail.ru

Английская поэзия