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A poem by William Makepeace Thackeray |
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The Speculators |
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Title: The Speculators Author: William Makepeace Thackeray [More Titles by Thackeray] The night was stormy and dark, The town was shut up in sleep: Only those were abroad who were out on a lark, Or those who'd no beds to keep. I pass'd through the lonely street, The wind did sing and blow; I could hear the policeman's feet Clapping to and fro. There stood a potato-man In the midst of all the wet; He stood with his 'tato-can In the lonely Haymarket. Two gents of dismal mien. And dark and greasy rags, Came out of a shop for gin Swaggering over the flags: Swaggering over the stones, Was I sober or awake? I wondered more and more: "I wrote for twenty," says Jim, "O Jim, you are unawares "And yet you got no shares," "I lost, for I couldn't pay And at this simple feast Their talk did me perplex, "Bless railroads everywhere," For never a beggar need now despair, -THE END- GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |