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Robert W Service - Tim
Work rating: Medium

My brother Tim has children ten,
          While I have none.
Maybe that`s why he`s toiling when
          To ease I`ve won.
But though I would some of his brood
          Give hearth and care,
I know that not a one he would
          Have heart to spare.

`Tis children that have kept him poor;
          He`s clad them neat.
They`ve never wanted, I am sure,
          For bite to eat.
And though their future may be dim,
          They laugh a lot.
Am I tearful for Brother Tim?
          Oh no, I`m not.

I know he goes to work each day
          With flagging feet.
`Tis hard, even with decent pay,
          To make ends meet.
But when my sterile home I see,
          So smugly prim,
Although my banker bows to me,
          I envy Tim.
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