Reuben and Other Poems by Robert Leighton |
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![]() | Reuben and Other Poems | ![]() |
John Skippangoe was footman to a squire,
Willing and prompt as master could desire,
And oftentimes his faithful service got
Such recompense as all good service ought—
The kindly word, the patronising joke,
Which condescension in its turn awoke
Familiar reverence in the breast of John.
Full many gifts he gave him and anon
A ticket for the lottery, sure to gain—
The lottery of Frankfort-on-the-Maine.
But honest John, though prodigal of thanks,
Knew well his master's luck was all for blanks:
In truth, both John and squire knew well enough
The ticket was not worth a pinch of snuff.
Willing and prompt as master could desire,
And oftentimes his faithful service got
Such recompense as all good service ought—
The kindly word, the patronising joke,
Which condescension in its turn awoke
Familiar reverence in the breast of John.
Full many gifts he gave him and anon
A ticket for the lottery, sure to gain—
The lottery of Frankfort-on-the-Maine.
But honest John, though prodigal of thanks,
Knew well his master's luck was all for blanks:
In truth, both John and squire knew well enough
The ticket was not worth a pinch of snuff.
![]() | Reuben and Other Poems | ![]() |