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 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
[Who is that, father?]
Who is that, father?
A mendicant, child,
Haggard, morose, and unaffable—wild!
See how he glares through the bars of his cell!
With Citizen Mendicant all is not well.
Haggard, morose, and unaffable—wild!
See how he glares through the bars of his cell!
With Citizen Mendicant all is not well.
Why did they put him there, father?
Because
Obeying his belly he struck at the laws.
Obeying his belly he struck at the laws.
His belly?
Oh, well, he was starving, my boy—
A state in which, doubtless, there's little of joy.
No bite had he eaten for days, and his cry
Was “Bread!” ever “Bread!”
A state in which, doubtless, there's little of joy.
No bite had he eaten for days, and his cry
Was “Bread!” ever “Bread!”
35
What's the matter with pie?
With little to wear, he had nothing to sell;
To beg was unlawful—improper as well.
To beg was unlawful—improper as well.
Why didn't he work?
He would even have done that,
But men said: “Get out!” and the State remarked: “Scat!”
I mention these incidents merely to show
That the vengeance he took was uncommonly low.
Revenge, at the best, is the act of a Siou,
But for trifles—
But men said: “Get out!” and the State remarked: “Scat!”
I mention these incidents merely to show
That the vengeance he took was uncommonly low.
Revenge, at the best, is the act of a Siou,
But for trifles—
Pray what did bad Mendicant do?
Stole two loaves of bread to replenish his lack
And tuck out the belly that clung to his back.
And tuck out the belly that clung to his back.
Is that all father dear?
There is little to tell:
They sent him to jail, and they'll send him to—well,
The company's better than here we can boast,
And there's—
They sent him to jail, and they'll send him to—well,
The company's better than here we can boast,
And there's—
Bread for the needy, dear father?
Um—toast.
Atka Mip.
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |