"You led the trump," the old man said <br />With fury in his eye, <br />"And yet you hope my girl to wed! <br />Young man! your hopes of love are fled, <br />'Twere better she should die! <br />"My sweet young daughter sitting there, <br />So innocent and plump! <br />You don't suppose that she would care <br />To wed an outlawed man who'd dare <br />To lead the thirteenth trump! <br /> <br />"If you had drawn their leading spade <br />It meant a certain win! <br />But no! By Pembroke's mighty shade <br />The thirteenth trump you went and played <br />And let their diamonds in! <br /> <br />"My girl, return at my command <br />His presents in a lump! <br />Return his ring! For, understand, <br />No man is fit to hold your hand <br />Who leads a thirteenth trump! <br /> <br />"But hold! Give every man his due <br />And every dog his day. <br />Speak up and say what made you do <br />This dreadful thing -- that is, if you <br />Have anything to say!" <br /> <br />He spoke. "I meant at first," said he, <br />"To give their spades a bump, <br />Or lead the hearts; but then you see <br />I thought against us there might be, <br />Perhaps, a fourteenth trump!" <br /> <br />They buried him at dawn of day <br />Beside a ruined stump: <br />And there he sleeps the hours away <br />And waits for Gabriel to play <br />The last -- the fourteenth trump.<br /><br />Andrew Barton Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-last-trump/
