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 sponge upon a friend: Yet where he's not so rich as I; I pay my club, and so God b' y' -- | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PROPER NEW BALLAD [ENTITLED THE FAIRIES' FAREWELL] by RICHARD CORBET SNEEZING by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT BEREAVED by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY AT THE PICTURE-SHOW by KARLE WILSON BAKER THE VIERZIDE CHAIRS by WILLIAM BARNES |