@3There's nothing sweet in the city But the patient lives of the poor.@1 -- JOHN BOYLE O'REILLY I SINCE pick av them I'm sore denied 'Twixt play or work, I say, Though it be Christmas, I decide I'll work whilst others play: I'll whustle, too, wid Christmas pride To airn me extry pay. -- It's like the job's more glorified That's done a-holiday! Dan, dip a coal in dad's pipe-bowl; Kate, pass me dinner-can: Och! Mary woman, save yer sowl, Ye've kissed a workin'-man -- Ye have, this Christmas mornin', Ye've kissed a workin'-man! II Whisht, Kate an' Dan! -- ten thousan' grates There's yon where ne'er a charm Av childer-faces sanctuates The city-homes from harm: It's cold out there the weather waits An' bitter whirls the storm, But, faith! these arms av little Kate's 'Ll kape her fayther warm! Ay, Danny, tight me belt a mite, -- Kate, aisy wid the can! -- Sure, I'd be comin' home to-night A hungry workin'-man -- D'ye moind, this Christmas avenin' -- A howlin'-hungry man! III It's sorry for the boss I be, Wid new conthracts to sign An' hire a sub to oversee Whilst he lave off an' dine: It's sorry for the Company That owns the Aarie Line -- What vasht raasponshibility They have, compared wid mine! There, Katy! git me t'other mitt, An' fetch me yon from Dan -- (Wid aich one's "Christmas" hid in it!) Lave go me dinner-can! -- Ye'll have me docked this mornin' -- This blessed Christmas mornin', -- A dishgraced workin'-man! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VERSES FROM THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE by MATTHEW ARNOLD HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: MARSH SONG - AT SUNSET by SIDNEY LANIER ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 47 by PHILIP SIDNEY YARROW REVISITED by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH LOVE POSTPONED by RUTH FITCH BARTLETT TO ONE ON HER BIRTHDAY (2) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |