Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE JUNGLE, by FRANCES REUBELT


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE JUNGLE, by                    
First Line: Look please! Over there is the jungle, the hoboes', the tramps' wayside inn
Last Line: And that goes for all of us, dear.


Look, please! Over there is the jungle, the hoboes', the tramps' wayside inn.
As your car moves along,
Comes a bit of a song
With sometimes a whiff of poor gin.
What pitiful wreckage to cook with! A battered tin pot or two
With a pile of used bricks
And a bundle of sticks
Must serve for their Mulligan stew.
Say! How do you fancy the odors that float out, polluting the air?
Fearful mixtures and blends
The breeze catches and sends;
Do they tempt you to dine over there?
The coals gleam and glow in the shadows and light up the faces around.
See those boys, young and gay,
Men, old, sodden and grey,
With eyes that appall and confound --
Well, what are we doing about it? We sniff at the smells that are queer;
Keep driving along of it,
Ignoring the wrong of it --
And that goes for all of us, dear.





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