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Edward Thomas

(3 March 1878 - 9 April 1917 / London / England)

A Gentleman


'He has robbed two clubs. The judge at Salisbury
Can't give him more than he undoubtedly
Deserves. The scoundrel! Look at his photograph!
A lady-killer! Hanging's too good by half
For such as he.' So said the stranger, one
With crimes yet undiscovered or undone.
But at the inn the Gipsy dame began:
'Now he was what I call a gentleman.
He went along with Carrie, and when she
Had a baby he paid up so readily
His half a crown. Just like him. A crown'd have been
More like him. For I never knew him mean.
Oh! but he was such a nice gentleman. Oh!
Last time we met he said if me and Joe
Was anywhere near we must be sure and call.
He put his arms around our Amos all
As if he were his own son. I pray God
Save him from justice! Nicer man never trod.'

Submitted: Wednesday, April 07, 2010

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  • Rookie Ian Fraser (11/27/2011 12:18:00 AM)

    Astonishing poem. Never ceases to amaze me the poor judgement of American commentators. Like notihng else Thomas wrote and yet on the button. (Report) Reply

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