The Carpenter's Son
Alfred Edward Housman
"Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die. "Oh, at home had I but stayed 'Prenticed to my father's trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads. "Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I left but ill alone. "Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So 'tis come from ill to worse. "Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same's the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love. "Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone. "Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live lads, and I will die."
Next 10 Poems
- Alfred Edward Housman : The Chestnut Casts His Flambeaux
- Alfred Edward Housman : The Day Of Battle
- Alfred Edward Housman : The Fairies Break Their Dances
- Alfred Edward Housman : The Grizzly Bear
- Alfred Edward Housman : The Immortal Part
- Alfred Edward Housman : The Isle Of Portland
- Alfred Edward Housman : The Lads In Their Hundreds
- Alfred Edward Housman : The Lads In Their Hundreds To Ludlow Come In For The Fair
- Alfred Edward Housman : The Laws Of God, The Laws Of Man
- Alfred Edward Housman : The Lent Lily
Previous 10 Poems
- Alfred Edward Housman : Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff
- Alfred Edward Housman : Tell Me Not Here, It Needs Not Saying
- Alfred Edward Housman : Stars
- Alfred Edward Housman : Shot? So Quick, So Clean An Ending?
- Alfred Edward Housman : Say, Lad, Have You Things To Do?
- Alfred Edward Housman : Reveille
- Alfred Edward Housman : Others, I Am Not The First
- Alfred Edward Housman : On Your Midnight Pallet Lying
- Alfred Edward Housman : On Wenlock Edge The Wood's In Trouble
- Alfred Edward Housman : On The Idle Hill Of Summer