Nothing to do but work, Nothing to eat but food, Nothing to wear but clothes To keep one from going nude. Nothing to breathe but air, Quick as a flash 't is gone; Nowhere to fall but off, Nowhere to stand but on. Nothing to comb but hair, Nowhere to sleep but in bed, Nothing to weep but tears, Nothing to bury but dead. Nothing to sing but songs, Ah, well, alas! alack! Nowhere to go but out, Nowhere to come buck back. Nothing to see but sights, Nothing to quench but thirst, Nothing to have but what we've got Thus through life we are cursed. Nothing to strike but a gait; Everything moves that goes. Nothing at all but common sense Can ever withstand these woes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN YOUTH IS PLEASURE by ROBERT WEVER THE LONE BUTTE by EVA K. ANGLESBURG PORTRAIT BY PICHER by FRANCES BAKER THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: THE FOUNT OF TRUTH by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON VERSES DESIGNED FOR AN INFIRMARY by JOHN BYROM |