 | The complete poetical works of Thomas Hood |  |
350
MY SON AND HEIR
I
My mother bids me bind my heir,But not the trade where I should bind;
To place a boy—the how and where—
It is the plague of parent-kind!
II
She does not hint the slightest plan,Nor what indentures to indorse;
Whether to bind him to a man,—
Or, like Mazeppa, to a horse.
III
What line to choose of likely rise,To something in the Stocks at last,—
‘Fast bind, fast find,’ the proverb cries,
I find I cannot bind so fast!
IV
A Statesman James can never be;A Tailor?—there I only learn
His chief concern is cloth, and he
Is always cutting his concern.
V
A Seedsman?—I'd not have him so;A Grocer's plum might disappoint;
A Butcher?—no, not that—although
I hear ‘the times are out of joint!’
VI
Too many of all trades there be,Like Pedlars, each has such a pack;
A merchant selling coals?—we see
The buyer send to cellar back.
VII
A Hardware dealer?—that might please,But if his trade's foundation leans
On spikes and nails, he won't have ease
When he retires upon his means.
VIII
A Soldier?—there he has not nerves,A Sailor seldom lays up pelf:
A Baker?—no, a baker serves,
His customer before himself.
IX
Dresser of hair?—that's not the sort;A Joiner jars with his desire—
A Churchman?—James is very short,
And cannot to a church aspire.
X
A Lawyer?—that's a hardish term!A Publisher might give him ease,
If he could into Longman's firm,
Just plunge at once ‘in medias Rees.’
XI
A shop for pot, and pan, and cup,Such brittle Stock I can't advise;
A Builder running houses up,
Their gains are stories—may be lies!
XII
A Coppersmith I can't endure—Nor petty Usher A, B, C-ing;
A Publican, no father sure
Would be the author of his being!
XIII
A Paper-maker?—come he mustTo rags before he sells a sheet—
A Miller?—all his toil is just
To make a meal—he does not eat.
XIV
A Currier?—that by favour goes—A Chandler gives me great misgiving—
An Undertaker?—one of those
That do not hope to get their living!
XV
Three Golden Balls?—I like them not;An Auctioneer I never did—
The victim of a slavish lot,
Obliged to do as he is bid!
351
XVI
A Broker watching fall and riseOf Stock?—I'd rather deal in stone,—
A Printer?—there his toils comprise
Another's work beside his own.
XVII
A Cooper?—neither I nor JimHave any taste or turn for that—
A Fish retailer?—but with him,
One part of trade is always flat.
XVIII
A Painter?—long he would not live,—An Artist's a precarious craft—
In trade Apothecaries give,
But very seldom take, a draught.
XIX
A Glazier?—what if he should smash!A Crispin he shall not be made—
A Grazier may be losing cash,
Although he drives ‘a roaring trade.’
XX
Well, something must be done! to lookOn all my little works around—
James is too big a boy, like book
To leave upon the shelf unbound.
XXI
But what to do?—my temples acheFrom evening's dew till morning's pearl,
What course to take my boy to make—
O could I make my boy—a girl!
| The complete poetical works of Thomas Hood | |