Share:
  Guess poet | Poets | Poets timeline | Isles | Contacts

John Clare - The TrampJohn Clare - The Tramp
Work rating: Low


He eats (a moment`s stoppage to his song) The stolen turnip as he goes along; And hops along and heeds with careless eye The passing crowded stage coach reeling bye. He talks to none but wends his silent way, And finds a hovel at the close of day, Or under any hedge his house is made. He has no calling and he owns no trade. An old smoaked blanket arches oer his head, A whisp of straw or stubble makes his bed. He knows a lawless law that claims no kin But meet and plunder on and feel no sin-- No matter where they go or where they dwell They dally with the winds and laugh at hell.
Source

The script ran 0.001 seconds.