Poem by Alfred Edward Housman

A Shropshire Lad. 47. The Carpenter's Son

"Here the hangman stops his cart:
Now the best of friends must part.
Fare you well, for ill fare I:
Live, lads, and I will die.

"Oh, at home had I but stayed
'Prenticed to my father's trade,
Had I stuck to plane and adze,
I had not been lost, my lads.

"Then I might have built perhaps
Gallows-trees for other chaps,
Never dangled on my own,
Had I left but ill alone.

"Now, you see, they hang me high,
And the people passing by
Stop to shake their fists and curse;
So 'tis come from ill to worse.

"Here hang I, and right and left
Two poor fellows hang for theft:
All the same's the luck we prove,
Though the midmost hangs for love.

"Comrades all, that stand and gaze,
Walk henceforth in other ways;
See my neck and save your own:
Comrades all, leave ill alone.

"Make some day a decent end,
Shrewder fellows than your friend.
Fare you well, for ill fare I:
Live lads, and I will die." 

1. More Poems. 17. Bells in Tower at Evening Toll
2. More Poems. 22. Ho, Everyone that Tthirsteth
3. More Poems. 9. When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust
4. Additional Poems. 2. Oh Were He and I Together
5. More Poems. 25. Yon Flakes that Fret the Eastern Sky

Print

1793 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version