Читать книгу Songs of the Army of the Night - Francis William Lauderdale Adams - Страница 14

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Will you not buy? She asks you, my lord, you

Who know the points desirable in such.

She does not say that she is perfect. True,

She’s not too pleasant to the sight or touch.

But then—neither are you!

Her cheeks are rather fallen in; a mist

Glazes her eyes, for all their hungry glare.

Her lips do not breathe balmy when they’re kissed.

And yet she’s not more loathsome than, I swear,

Your grandmother at whist.

My lord, she will admit, and need not frame

Excuses for herself, that she’s not chaste.

First a young lover had her; then she came

From one man’s to another’s arms, with haste.

Your mother did the same.

Moreover, since she’s married, once or twice

She’s sold herself for certain things at night,

To sell one’s body for the highest price

Of social ease and power, all girls think right.

Your sister did it thrice.

What, you’ll not buy? You’ll curse at her instead?—

Her children are alone, at home, quite near.

These winter streets, so gay at nights, ’tis said,

Have ’ticed the wanton out. She could not hear Her children cry for bread!