I MIND the days when ladies fair <br />Helped on my overcoat, <br />And tucked the silken handkerchief <br />About my precious throat; <br />They used to see the poet’s soul <br />In every song I wrote. <br /> <br />They pleaded hard, but I had work <br />To do, and could not stay <br />I used to work the whole night through, <br />And what have you to say? <br /> <br />’Twas clever, handsome woman then, <br />And I their rising star; <br />I could not see they worshipped me, <br />Because I saw too far. <br />(’Tis well for one or two, I think, <br />That things are as they are.) <br /> <br />(I used to write for writing’s sake, <br />I used to write till day, <br />I loved my prose and poetry, <br />And what have you to say?) <br /> <br />I guess if one should meet me now <br />That she would gasp to think, <br />She ever knew a thing like me, <br />As down the street I slink, <br />And trembling cadge from some old pal <br />The tray-bit for a drink. <br /> <br />I used to drink with gentlemen <br />To pass an hour away: <br />I drink long beers in common bars, <br />And what have you to say? <br /> <br />But often, in the darkest night <br />(And ’tis a wondrous thing)— <br />When others see the devils dance, <br />I hear the angels sing, <br />And round the drunkard’s lonely bed <br />Heaven’s nurses whispering. <br /> <br />I wrote for Truth and Right alone, <br />I wrote from night till day; <br />I’ll find a drunken pauper grave, <br />And what have you to say? <br />Good night! <br />Good day! <br />My noble friends, <br />And what have you to say?<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-what-have-you-to-say/
