Let laureates sing with rapturous swing <br />Of the wonder and glory of work; <br />Let pulpiteers preach and with passion impeach <br />The indolent wretches who shirk. <br />No doubt they are right: in the stress of the fight <br />It's the slackers who go to the wall; <br />So though it's my shame I perversely proclaim <br />It's fine to do nothing at all. <br /> <br />It's fine to recline on the flat of one's spine, <br />With never a thought in one's head: <br />It's lovely to le staring up at the sky <br />When others are earning their bread. <br />It's great to feel one with the soil and the sun, <br />Drowned deep in the grasses so tall; <br />Oh it's noble to sweat, pounds and dollars to get, <br />But - it's grand to do nothing at all. <br /> <br />So sing to the praise of the fellows who laze <br />Instead of lambasting the soil; <br />The vagabonds gay who lounge by the way, <br />Conscientious objectors to toil. <br />But lest you should think, by this spatter of ink, <br />The Muses still hold me in thrall, <br />I'll round out my rhyme, and (until the next time) <br />Work like hell - doing nothing at all.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/laziness/
