Читать книгу Adventures and Recollections - Bill o'th' Hoylus End - Страница 38

Wee silvery fish, who nobly braves

The dangers o’ the ocean waves,

While monsters from the unknown caves

Make thee their prey,

Escaping which the human knaves

On thee lig way.

No doubt thou was at first designed

To suit the palates of mankind;

Yet as I ponder now, I find

Thy fame is gone,

With dainty dish thou art behind

With every one.

. … .

When times are hard we’re scant o’ cash,

And famine hungry bellies lash

And tripe and trollabobble’s trash

Begin to fail—

Asteead o’ soups an’ oxtail ’ash,

Hail! herring, hail!

Full monny a time ’tas made me groan

To see thee stretched, despised, alone;

While turned-up noses past have gone

O’ purse-proud men!

No friends, alas! save some poor one

Fra’ t’ paddin’ can.

. … .

If through thy pedigree we peep,

Philosophy from thee can reap,

To me I need not study deep

There’s nothing foreign,

For I, like thee, am sold too cheap,

My little herring!