On Himself Poem by Jonathan Swift
On Himself
Rating: ★2.8
ON RAINY days alone I dine
Upon a chick and pint of wine.
On rainy days I dine alone
And pick my chicken to the bone;
But this my servants much enrages,
No scraps remain to save board-wages.
In weather fine I nothing spend,
But often spunge upon a friend;
Yet, where he’s not so rich as I,
I pay my club, and so good-bye.
Monday, April 12, 2010
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4/25/2024 7:01:28 AM # 1.0.0.1119
