Английская поэзия


ГлавнаяБиографииСтихи по темамСлучайное стихотворениеПереводчикиСсылкиАнтологии
Рейтинг поэтовРейтинг стихотворений

Andrew Barton Paterson (Эндрю Бартон Патерсон)


The Federal Bus Conductor and the Old Lady


Now ’urry, Mrs New South Wales, and come along of us, 
We’re all a-goin’ ridin’ in the Federation ’bus. 
A fam’ly party, don’t you know -- yes, Queenslans’s comin’, too, 
You can’t afford it! Go along! We’ve kep’ box seat for you. 
The very one of all the lot that can afford it best, 
You’ll only have to pay your share the same as all the rest. 
You say your sons is workin’ men, and can’t afford to ride! 
Well, all our sons is workin’ men, a-smokin’ up outside. 
You think you might be drove to smash by some unskilful bloke! 
Well, ain’t we all got necks ourselves? And we don’t want ’em broke. 
You bet your lofe we’re not such fools but what we’ll do our best 
To keep from harm -- for harm to one is harm to all the rest. 

Now, don’t go trudgin’ on alone, but get aboard the trap; 
That basket, labelled ”Capital”, you take it in your lap! 
It’s nearly time we made a start, so let’s ’ave no more talk: 
You ’urry up and get aboard, or else stop out and walk. 
We’ve got a flag; we’ve got a band; out ’orses travels fast; 
Ho! Right away, Bill! Let ’em go! The old ’un’s come at last!



Andrew Barton Paterson's other poems:
  1. The Wargeilah Handicap
  2. There’s Another Blessed Horse Fell Down
  3. The Man Who Was Away
  4. Shearing at Castlereagh
  5. The First Surveyor


Распечатать стихотворение. Poem to print Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1233


Последние стихотворения


To English version


Рейтинг@Mail.ru

Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru