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Robert W Service - Hobo
Work rating: Low

A father`s pride I used to know,
A mother`s love was mine;
For swinish husks I let them go,
And bedded with the swine.
Since then I`ve come on evil days
And most of life is hell;
But even swine have winsome ways
When once you know them well.

One time I guessed I`d cease to roam,
And greet the folks again;
And so I rode the rods to home
And through the window pane
I saw them weary, worn and grey . . .
I gazed from the garden gloom,
And like sweet, shiny saints were they
Int taht sweet, shiny room.

D`ye think I hollored out: "Hullo!"
The prodigal to play,
And eat the fatted calf? Ah no,
I cursed and ran away.
My eyes were blears of whisky tears
As to a pub I ran:
But once at least I beat the beast
And proved myself a man.

Oh, some day I am going back,
But I`ll have gold galore;
I`ll wear a suit of sobber black
And knock upon the door.
I`l tell them how I`ve made a stake,
We`ll have the grandest time. . . .
"Say, Mister, give a guy a break:
For Chrissake, spare a dime."
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