O, I AM Little Peter, Of faubourg La Pucelle; A carrier of water, And messenger, as well; To gain an honest living I've got a clever head; I seldom fill my pocket, But then I get my bread! I have no land nor servants; All equipage I lack; These legs, they are my horses; My funds are on my back. I take the good that's going, Quite certain to be fed; God wills us all a living, And so I get my bread! Before some stately building I place my little stand; No Swiss you need to parley, The master is at hand. Up early in the morning, And late at night to bed, I call the day a good one In which I get my bread! There goes a man of millions, But what is that to me? Who knows but Little Peter Is happier than he? The rich man has his troubles, I often hear it said; He can but eat his mutton, And I -- I get my bread! I've heard my worthy uncle, Before his sad decease, Declare no man is wretched Whose stomach is at peace; And should these fine days vanish, And dark ones come instead, The neighbors love poor Peter, And I shall get my bread! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAROL: NEW STYLE by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE SACRAL DREAMS OF RAMON FERNANDEZ by JAMES GALVIN TRANSPOSITIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BALLAD MADE AT THE REQUEST OF HIS MOTHER .. PRAY TO OUR LADY by FRANCOIS VILLON |