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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
And I'll tell ye what, the gel had raison,
She had, aw yes! for it's just amazin'
The work that's with it. But still for all
Who'd be without it? to stand or to fall,
The sweet with the bitter! But the poor young things,
That's feelin' love like birds feels wings,
And ups like the lark, and love to crown them
With joy, and the sun all round and round them—
And then comes hail and frost and snow,
And the thunders rowl, and the winds they blow—
Aw dear, the poor birds! It's better, you'd think,
To have nothin' to do with it? Chink-chink-chink!
Chunk-chunk-chunk! Well, of coorse ye needn':
Bless ye! there's different sorts of feedin'—
Pigs isn' larks, not them; and still
Pigs is very comfible—
Jine the pigs! it's the easiest way,
Shove your snout in the trough, and suck away!
She had, aw yes! for it's just amazin'
The work that's with it. But still for all
Who'd be without it? to stand or to fall,
The sweet with the bitter! But the poor young things,
That's feelin' love like birds feels wings,
And ups like the lark, and love to crown them
With joy, and the sun all round and round them—
And then comes hail and frost and snow,
And the thunders rowl, and the winds they blow—
Aw dear, the poor birds! It's better, you'd think,
To have nothin' to do with it? Chink-chink-chink!
Chunk-chunk-chunk! Well, of coorse ye needn':
Bless ye! there's different sorts of feedin'—
Pigs isn' larks, not them; and still
Pigs is very comfible—
Jine the pigs! it's the easiest way,
Shove your snout in the trough, and suck away!
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |