When you’ve knocked about the country—been away from home for years; <br />When the past, by distance softened, nearly fills your eyes with tears— <br />You are haunted oft, wherever or however you may roam, <br />By a fancy that you ought to go and see the folks at home. <br />You forget the family quarrels—little things that used to jar— <br />And you think of how they’ll worry—how they wonder where you are; <br />You will think you served them badly, and your own part you’ll condemn, <br />And it strikes you that you’ll surely be a novelty to them, <br />For your voice has somewhat altered, and your face has somewhat changed— <br />And your views of men and matters over wider fields have ranged. <br />Then it’s time to save your money, or to watch it (how it goes!); <br />Then it’s time to get a ‘Gladstone’ and a decent suit of clothes; <br />Then it’s time to practise daily with a hair-brush and a comb, <br />Till you drop in unexpected on the folks and friends at home. <br />When you’ve been at home for some time, and the novelty’s worn off, <br />And old chums no longer court you, and your friends begin to scoff; <br />When ‘the girls’ no longer kiss you, crying ‘Jack! how you have changed!’ <br />When you’re stale to your relations, and their manner seems estranged ; <br />When the old domestic quarrels, round the table thrice a day, <br />Make it too much like the old times—make you wish you’d stayed away, <br />When, in short, you’ve spent your money in the fulness of your heart, <br />And your clothes are getting shabby . . . Then it’s high time to depart. <br /> <br /> <br /><br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-professional-wanderer/
