John Davidson Poems
|1.||A Northern Suburb||5/21/2012|
|2.||A Cinque Port||4/16/2010|
|6.||A Runnable Stag||1/3/2003|
|7.||Song Of A Train||1/3/2003|
|8.||The Last Rose||1/4/2003|
|13.||A Ballad Of Hell||1/3/2003|
|14.||In Romney Marsh||1/3/2003|
|15.||Thirty Bob A Week||1/3/2003|
Thirty Bob A Week
I couldn't touch a stop and turn a screw,
And set the blooming world a-work for me,
Like such as cut their teeth -- I hope, like you --
On the handle of a skeleton gold key;
I cut mine on a leek, which I eat it every week:
I'm a clerk at thirty bob as you can see.
But I don't allow it's luck and all a toss;
There's no such thing as being starred and crossed;
It's just the power of some to be a boss,
And the bally power of others to be bossed:
I face the music, sir; you bet I ain't a cur;
Strike me lucky if I don't believe I'm lost!
For like a mole I ...