![]() |
||
|
Главная • Биографии • Стихи по темам • Случайное стихотворение • Переводчики • Ссылки • Антологии Рейтинг поэтов • Рейтинг стихотворений |
|
Edgar Albert Guest (Эдгар Альберт Гест) The Doctor I don't see why Pa likes him so, And seems so glad to have him come; He jabs my ribs and wants to know If here and there it's hurting some. He holds my wrist, coz there are things In there, which always jump and jerk, Then, with a telephone he brings, He listens to my breather work. He taps my back and pinches me, Then hangs a mirror on his head And looks into my throat to see What makes it hurt and if it's red. Then on his knee he starts to write And says to mother, with a smile: "This ought to fix him up all right, We'll cure him in a little while." I don't see why Pa likes him so. Whenever I don't want to play He says: "The boy is sick, I know! Let's get the doctor right away." And when he comes, he shakes his hand, And hustles him upstairs to me, And seems contented just to stand Inside the room where he can see. Then Pa says every time he goes: "That's money I am glad to pay; It's worth it, when a fellow knows His pal will soon be up to play." But maybe if my Pa were me, And had to take his pills and all, He wouldn't be so glad to see The doctor come to make a call. Edgar Albert Guest's other poems:
![]() Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1174 |
||
|
||
Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |