(1) I have a reed of oaten straw, I play upon it when I may; And the music that I draw Is as happy as the day. It has seven holes, and I Play it high, and play it low; I can make it laugh, or cry, Can make or banish joy or woe. Any song that you can name I will play it on the word; Old or new is all the same, I'm as ready as a bird. (2) But there is a tune, and though I try to play it, day and night, Blowing high, and blowing low, I can never play it right! I know it well, without a flaw, The tune that yet I cannot play On my reed of oaten straw, Though I practice night and day! Penny pipe, be good to me! And play the tune I want to play, Or I will smash you on a tree, And throw your wicked halves away! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MAN TO A WOMAN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE RAIN by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE LOVE SONG OF J. ALFRED PRUFROCK by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT MARY'S LAMB by SARAH JOSEPHA BUELL HALE EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: THE COWARD by RUDYARD KIPLING |