A Shropshire Lad
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A Shropshire Lad
The Carpenter’s Son
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“Here the hangman stops his cart: Now the best of friends must part. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live, lads, and I will die. “Oh, at home had I but stayed ’Prenticed to my father’s trade, Had I stuck to plane and adze, I had not been lost, my lads. “Then I might have built perhaps Gallows-trees for other chaps, Never dangled on my own, Had I left but ill alone. “Now, you see, they hang me high, And the people passing by Stop to shake their fists and curse; So ’tis come from ill to worse. “Here hang I, and right and left Two poor fellows hang for theft: All the same’s the luck we prove, Though the midmost hangs for love. “Comrades all, that stand and gaze, Walk henceforth in other ways; See my neck and save your own: Comrades all, leave ill alone. “Make some day a decent end, Shrewder fellows than your friend. Fare you well, for ill fare I: Live lads, and I will die.” |
 Bring, in this timeless grave to throw |
 Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle |