Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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“MISTER JOHN.” |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
“MISTER JOHN.”
He was once a small tradesman who kept a small shop,
And as good as his neighbours
Or better for labours,
But rather too fond at all times of a drop;
So the liquor ran in
And the money ran out,
And although he grew stout
Yet the business got thin;
Till at length it took wings in a desperate hurry,
And persons were kindly but still they moved on,
For they now would not worry
Their friend “Mister John.”
And as good as his neighbours
Or better for labours,
But rather too fond at all times of a drop;
So the liquor ran in
And the money ran out,
And although he grew stout
Yet the business got thin;
Till at length it took wings in a desperate hurry,
And persons were kindly but still they moved on,
For they now would not worry
Their friend “Mister John.”
Thus he went down the stream that was mainly of beer,
But a little too present;
And at first it seemed pleasant,
But coffers waxed empty and then things looked queer.
His companions, who helped
To distribute his gold,
Turned all distant and cold,
And the dogs even yelped.
In the end he went off with a dreadful misgiving,
For people had gone
And removed with his living,
And left just “Mister John.”
But a little too present;
And at first it seemed pleasant,
489
His companions, who helped
To distribute his gold,
Turned all distant and cold,
And the dogs even yelped.
In the end he went off with a dreadful misgiving,
For people had gone
And removed with his living,
And left just “Mister John.”
And he quickly sank deeper and still deeper down,
Till he prized half an apple
Or crust in Whitechapel,
And heaven above was one horrible frown.
His old customers too,
If they happened to meet
Him, crossed over the street
And had business to do;
While he found pity scarce, as he stood at the corner,
Where gas dimly shone,
And that too seemed a scorner
Of poor “Mister John.”
Till he prized half an apple
Or crust in Whitechapel,
And heaven above was one horrible frown.
His old customers too,
If they happened to meet
Him, crossed over the street
And had business to do;
While he found pity scarce, as he stood at the corner,
Where gas dimly shone,
And that too seemed a scorner
Of poor “Mister John.”
Any night you may see him not far from the door
Of some garish beer tavern,
Which he thinks a cavern
Of gold and delight with a diamond floor.
If he only can kill
For a season his shame
And the thought of the blame,
He will drop lower still.
But when sober at morning he'll think with a shiver
(And newspapers con)
Of one plunge in the river,
To right “Mister John.”
Of some garish beer tavern,
Which he thinks a cavern
Of gold and delight with a diamond floor.
If he only can kill
For a season his shame
And the thought of the blame,
He will drop lower still.
But when sober at morning he'll think with a shiver
(And newspapers con)
Of one plunge in the river,
To right “Mister John.”
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |