 | A collection of poems by Ernest Radford |  |
59
A PEN SKETCH.
A little wife, a little wine,
A little villa, spick and span,
And looming large in the design,
A cradle, and a little man.
A little villa, spick and span,
And looming large in the design,
A cradle, and a little man.
The emblem of the civic state
He cast aside for lighter wear,
And when replenished and elate,
Caressed his little partner there.
He cast aside for lighter wear,
And when replenished and elate,
Caressed his little partner there.
He had, when he had done with sleep,
To scamp his little prayer, and shave.
He might, who has such hours to keep,
As well be trotting to his grave.
To scamp his little prayer, and shave.
He might, who has such hours to keep,
As well be trotting to his grave.
His “Firm” had all his little brains,
His Chief was raised from Mammon's clay,
He hoped, by never sparing pains,
To have that promised Rise one day.
And when he died of catching trains;
“'Twas cutting it too close,” said they.
His Chief was raised from Mammon's clay,
He hoped, by never sparing pains,
To have that promised Rise one day.
And when he died of catching trains;
“'Twas cutting it too close,” said they.
| A collection of poems by Ernest Radford | |