When I was only a youngster,
Sing: toodle doodlede ootl
Ole Kate would git her 'arf a pint
And wouldn't' giv' a damn hoot.
'Them stairs! them stairs, them gordam stairs
Will be the death of me/
I never heerd her say nothin'
About the priv'lege of liberty.
She'd come a sweatin' up with the coals
An a-sloshin' round with 'er mop,
Startin' in about 6 a.m.
And didn't seem never to stop.
She died on the job they tells me,
Fell plump into her pail.
Never got properly tanked as I saw,
And never got took to jail,
Just went on a sloshin'
And totin' up scuttles of coal,
And kissin9 her cat fer diversion,
Cod rest her sloshin- soul.
-Gimme a kissy-cuddle'
She'd say to her tibby-cat,
But she never made no mention
Of this here proletariat.
Ole Kate
Ezra Pound
(1)
Poem topics: death, soul, cat, never, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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