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Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис) Jaloppy Joy Past ash cans and alley cats, Fetid. overflowing gutters, Leprous lines of rancid flats Where the frowsy linen flutters; With a rattle and a jar, hark! I sing a happy ditty, As I speed my Master far From the poison of the City. Speed him to the sportive sea, Watch him walloping the briny, Light his pipe and brew his tea In a little wood that's piny; Haven him to peace of mind. Drowsy dreams in pleasant places, Where the woman's eyes are kind, And the men have ruddy faces. Just a jaloppy am I, But he's always been my lover, So each Sunday morn I try Youthful joy to re-discover. For he loves the wild and free, And though he would never know it, Nature thrills him with the glee And the rapture of the poet. He's a little invoice clerk, I'm a worn and ancient flivver; I have an asthmatic spark, He an alcoholic liver; Yet with clatter, clang and creak We are lyrical for one day; Then another loathly week, Living for another Sunday. Robert William Service's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1281 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |