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Poem by Jonathan Swift


On Himself


On rainy days alone I dine
Upon a chick and pint of wine.
On rainy days I dine alone
And pick my chicken to the bone;
But this my servants much enrages,
No scraps remain to save board-wages.
In weather fine I nothing spend,
But often spunge upon a friend;
Yet, where hes not so rich as I,
I pay my club, and so good-bye. 



Jonathan Swift


Jonathan Swift's other poems:
  1. Sid Hamets Rod
  2. On the Vowels
  3. Elegy on Partridge
  4. On Stella's Birth-day 1719
  5. Stella's Birthday March 13, 1727


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