Читать книгу Last Poems by A. E. Housman - Alfred Edward Housman - Страница 7

     The Queen she sent to look for me,

         The sergeant he did say,

     'Young man, a soldier will you be

         For thirteen pence a day?'

     For thirteen pence a day did I

         Take off the things I wore,

     And I have marched to where I lie,

         And I shall march no more.

     My mouth is dry, my shirt is wet,

         My blood runs all away,

     So now I shall not die in debt

         For thirteen pence a day.

     To-morrow after new young men

         The sergeant he must see,

     For things will all be over then

         Between the Queen and me.

     And I shall have to bate my price,

         For in the grave, they say,

     Is neither knowledge nor device

         Nor thirteen pence a day.