A. E. Housman



A Shropshire Lad

This time of year
a twelvemonth past




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A. E. Housman (1859-1936)

A Shropshire Lad



This time of year a twelvemonth past,
When Fred and I would meet,
We needs must jangle, till at last
We fought and I was beat.

So then the summer fields about,
Till rainy days began,
Rose Harland on her Sundays out
Walked with the better man.

The better man she walks with still,
Though now ítis not with Fred:
A lad that lives and has his will
Is worth a dozen dead.





Say, lad, have you things to do?


Along the field as we came by