Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE DRUNKARD TO HIS BOTTLE, by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Hoot! - daur ye shaw ye're face again Last Line: Ye've foun' your laddie! Subject(s): Alcoholism & Alcoholics | ||||||||
HOOT! -- daur ye shaw ye're face again, Ye auld black thief o' purse an' brain? For foul disgrace, for dool an' pain An' shame I ban ye: Wae's me, that e'er my lips have ta'en Your kiss uncanny! Nae mair, auld knave, without a shillin' To keep a starvin' wight frae stealin' Ye'll sen' me hameward, blin' and reelin', Frae nightly swagger, By wall an' post my pathway feelin', Wi' mony a stagger. Nae mair o' fights that bruise an' mangle, Nae mair o' nets my feet to tangle, Nae mair o' senseless brawl an' wrangle, Wi' frien' an' wife too, Nae mair o' deavin' din an' jangle My feckless life through. Ye thievin', cheatin' auld Cheap Jack, Peddlin' your poison brose, I crack Your banes against my ingle-back Wi' meikle pleasure. Deil mend ye i' his workshop black, E'en at his leisure! I'll brak ye're neck, ye foul auld sinner, I'll spill ye're bluid, ye vile beginner O' a' the ills an' aches that winna Quat saul an' body! Gie me hale breeks an' weel-spread dinner -- Deil tak' ye're toddy! Nae mair wi' witches' broo gane gyte, Gie me ance mair the auld delight O' sittin' wi' my bairns in sight, The gude wife near, The weel-spent day, the peacefu' night, The mornin' cheer! Cock a' ye're heids, my bairns fu' gleg, My winsome Robin, Jean, an' Meg, For food and claes ye shall na beg A doited daddie. Dance, auld wife, on your girl-day leg, Ye've foun' your laddie! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NO NONSENSE by CHARLES BUKOWSKI THE REPLACEMENTS by CHARLES BUKOWSKI BELLEVUE EXCHANGE by NORMAN DUBIE EVEN NOW YOU ARE LEAVING by TESS GALLAGHER ANY NEWS FROM ALPHA CENTAURI by ANSELM HOLLO AMY WENTWORTH; FOR WILLIAM BRADFORD by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |
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