Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FAT MAN YEARNS, by THOMAS AUGUSTINE DALY



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THE FAT MAN YEARNS, by            
First Line: Though I've had my share of the pleasure
Last Line: Saturday market day!
Alternate Author Name(s): Daly, T. A.
Subject(s): Longing; Obesity; Time


THOUGH I've had my share of the pleasure that men in a lifetime taste,
And my chin is of double measure, and I'm rather thick in the waist,
There's a joy Time cannot smother -- though the years have laid it away --
It was lugging the basket for mother, on the
Saturday market day.

On a frosty morn in December, with the holidays near at hand,
Oh, the market that I remember was a regular fairyland!
When the boisterous winds were icy and eager to nip the nose,
All the odors about were spicy, and each cabbage became a rose;
And the things that are often dull, or but commonplace things to see,
Were a perfect riot of color and light and beauty to me,
As we stopped at one or another of the stalls that were on our way,
When I carried the basket for mother on the
Saturday market day.

Oh! I didn't growl at the number or weight of the things I bore,
For I knew that I'd soon encumber my ribs with their share -- or more;
That the sausage and sirloin and scrapple and other rich morsels would throng
On the heels of the juicy red apple I munched as I shuffled along.
But if now I could once be repeating that long-vanished journey of joy --
Though I'm fond, just as fond of good eating as ever I was as a boy --
I would let my old appetite smother, and take but a kiss for my pay,
Could I carry the basket for mother on next
Saturday market day!





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