Читать книгу Nothing to Eat - Alger Horatio Jr., Thomas Chandler Haliburton - Страница 8

   The case, too, was urgent, for there stood a sinner,

   Whose fate hung on chance—a chance for his dinner;

   A chance for all mortals, with truth I assert,

   Who eat where his chance was, to counteract fate,

   “To eat during life each a peck of pure dirt”

    By eating at once the whole peck from one plate.

   For true when I think of the places we eat at,

   Or rather the places by hunger when driven

   We rush in and swallow our bread and our meat at,

   A bushel good measure in life will be given

   To those who are living a “boarding-house life,”

    Or those who are driven by fortune to journey,

   And eat when we must with so dirty a knife,

   I wish’t could be done by the power of attorney;

   Or where you must eat in a place called “saloon;”

    Or “coffee-house” synonym of whisky and rum;

   (I wish all the breed were sent off to the moon,

   And earth was well clear of the coffee-house scum;)

   Or where “Restauration” hangs out for sign,

   At bar-room or cellar or dirty back room,

   Where dishcloths for napkins are thought extra fine,

   And table cloths look as though washed with a broom;

   Where knives waiters spit on and wipe on their sleeves,

   And plates needing polish, with coat tails are cleaned;

   Where priests dine with harlots, and judges with thieves,

   And mayors with villains his worship has screened.