A father's pride I used to know, <br />A mother's love was mine; <br />For swinish husks I let them go, <br />And bedded with the swine. <br />Since then I've come on evil days <br />And most of life is hell; <br />But even swine have winsome ways <br />When once you know them well. <br /> <br />One time I guessed I'd cease to roam, <br />And greet the folks again; <br />And so I rode the rods to home <br />And through the window pane <br />I saw them weary, worn and grey . . . <br />I gazed from the garden gloom, <br />And like sweet, shiny saints were they <br />Int taht sweet, shiny room. <br /> <br />D'ye think I hollored out: "Hullo!" <br />The prodigal to play, <br />And eat the fatted calf? Ah no, <br />I cursed and ran away. <br />My eyes were blears of whisky tears <br />As to a pub I ran: <br />But once at least I beat the beast <br />And proved myself a man. <br /> <br />Oh, some day I am going back, <br />But I'll have gold galore; <br />I'll wear a suit of sobber black <br />And knock upon the door. <br />I'l tell them how I've made a stake, <br />We'll have the grandest time. . . . <br />"Say, Mister, give a guy a break: <br />For Chrissake, spare a dime."<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hobo/
