When you’re suffering hard for your sins, old man, <br />When you wake to trouble and sleep ill— <br />Oh, this is the clack of the middle class, <br />‘Win back the respect of the people!’ <br />You are weak, you’re a fool, or a drunken brute <br />When you’re deep in trouble and sorrow; <br />But walk down the street in a decent suit, <br />And their hats will be off to-morrow! Old Chap— <br />And their hats will be off to-morrow! <br />They cant and they cackle—‘Redeem the Past!’ <br />Who never had past worth redeeming: <br />Your soul seems dead, but you’ll find at last <br />That somewhere your soul lay dreaming. <br />You may stagger down-hill in a beer-stained coat, <br />You may loaf, you may cadge and borrow— <br />But walk down the street with a ten-pound note <br />And their hats will be off to-morrow! Old Man— <br />Yes, their hats will be off to-morrow! <br /> <br />But stick to it, man! for your old self’s sake, <br />Though to brood on the past is human; <br />Hold up for the sake of the mate who was true, <br />And the sake of the Other Woman. <br />And as for the rest, you may take off your hat <br />And banish all signs of sorrow; <br />You may take their hands, but in spite of that, <br />Can they win your respect to-morrow? Old Man— <br />Can they win your respect to-morrow?<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-morrow-2/
