I MUST, I will have gin!—that skillet take, Pawn it.—No more I'll roast, or boil or bake. This juice immortal will each want supply; Starve on, ye brats! so I but bung my eye. Starve? No! This gin ev'n mother's milk excels, Paints the pale cheeks, and hunger's darts repels. The skillet's pawned already? Take this cap; Round my bare head I'll yon brown paper wrap. Ha! half my petticoat was torn away By dogs (I fancy) as I maudlin lay. How the wind whistles through each broken pane! Through the wide-yawning roof how pours the rain! My bedstead's cracked; the table goes hip-hop.— But see! the gin! Come, come, thou cordial drop! Thou sovereign balsam to my longing heart! Thou husband, children, all! We must not part! @3Drinks@1 Delicious! O! Down the red lane it goes; Now I'm a queen, and trample on my woes. Inspired by gin, I'm ready for the road; Could shoot my man, or fire the King's abode. Ha! my brain's cracked.—The room turns round and round; Down drop the platters, pans: I'm on the ground. My tattered gown slips from me.—What care I? I was born naked, and I'll naked die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 4 by CONRAD AIKEN SPRING NOTES FROM ROBIN HILL by HAYDEN CARRUTH HAIL TEESSIDE! by CECIL DAY LEWIS PENDULUM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMEDAY BOOK: JOHN CAMPBELL AND CARL EATON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |