A FUR-COLLARED coat and a stick and a ring, And a chimney- pot hat to the side-that's me! I'm a music-hall singer that never could sing; I'm a sort of a fellow like that, do you see? I go pretty high in my line, I believe, Which is comic, and commonplace, too, maybe. I was once a job-lot, though, and didn't receive The lowest price paid in the biz., do you see? For I never could get the right hang of the trade; So the managers wrote at my name, " D.B.," In the guide-books they keep of our business and grade, Which means-you'll allow me-damned bad, do you see? But a sort of a kind of a pluck that's mine Despised any place save the top of the tree. I needed some rubbing before I could shine, Some grinding, and pruning, and that, do you see? So I practised my entrance-a kind of half- moon, With a flourishing stride and a bow to a T, And the bark and the yelp at the end of the tune, The principal things in my biz. , do you see? Oh, it's business that does it, and blow all the rest! The singers ain't in it alongside of me; They trust to their voices, but I know what's best Smart business, like clockwork and all, do you see? I'm jolly, and sober, and fond of my wife; And she and the kids, they're as happy as me. I was once in a draper's; but this kind of life Gives a fellow more time to himself, do you see? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WITH WHOM IS NO VARIABLENESS, NEITHER SHADOW OF TURNING' by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH THE HOMERIC HEXAMETER [DESCRIBED AND EXEMPLIFIED] by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE LIBERTY FOR ALL by WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 3 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI TO THE EARL OF WARWICK ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON by THOMAS TICKELL MY WINTER ROSE by ALFRED AUSTIN THE UNIVERSAL MOTHER by SABINE BARING-GOULD |