My wife a-rattling, My children tattling. My money spent is, And due my rent is. My school decreasing, My income ceasing. All people tease me, But no man pays me. My worship is bit, By that rogue Nisbit. To take the right way, Consult friend Whiteway. Would you get still more? Go flatter Kilmore. Your geese are old, Your wife a scold. You live among ill Folks in a dunghill. You never have an Old friend at Cavan. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POSSUM SONG (A WARNING) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON A SNOW-STORM; SCENE IN A VERMONT WINTER by CHARLES GAMAGE EASTMAN PUTTING IN THE SEED by ROBERT FROST THE KINGS by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY ON THE DEATH OF DR. ROBERT LEVET, A PRACTISER IN PHYSIC by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) BEAUTY ROHTRAUT by EDUARD FRIEDRICH MORIKE |