Poetry 版 (精华区)

发信人: fzx (……), 信区: Poem_ci
标  题: a song about myself
发信站: 紫 丁 香 (Sun Nov 29 16:18:27 1998), 转信

                    A SONG ABOUT MYSELF

                                 by John Keats



                          I.



                There was a naughty boy,

                  A naughty boy was he,

                He would not stop at home,

                  He could not quiet be-

                    He took

                    In his knapsack

                    A book

                    Full of vowels

                    And a shirt

                    With some towels,

                    A slight cap

                    For night cap,

                    A hair brush,

                    Comb ditto,

                    New stockings

                    For old ones

                    Would split O!

                    This knapsack

                    Tight at's back

                    He rivetted close

                  And followed his nose

                    To the north,

                    To the north,

                  And follow'd his nose

                    To the north.



                         II.



                There was a naughty boy

                  And a naughty boy was he,

                For nothing would he do

                  But scribble poetry-

                    He took

                    An ink stand

                    In his hand

                    And a pen

                    Big as ten

                    In the other,

                    And away

                    In a pother

                    He ran

                    To the mountains

                    And fountains

                    And ghostes

                    And postes

                    And witches

                    And ditches

                    And wrote

                    In his coat

                    When the weather

                    Was cool,

                    Fear of gout,

                    And without

                    When the weather

                    Was warm-

                    Och the charm

                    When we choose

                  To follow one's nose

                    To the north,

                    To the north,

                  To follow one's nose

                    To the north!



                        III.



                There was a naughty boy

                  And a naughty boy was he,

                He kept little fishes

                  In washing tubs three

                    In spite

                    Of the might

                    Of the maid

                    Nor afraid

                    Of his Granny-good-

                    He often would

                    Hurly burly

                    Get up early

                    And go

                    By hook or crook

                    To the brook

                    And bring home

                    Miller's thumb,

                    Tittlebat

                    Not over fat,

                    Minnows small

                    As the stall

                    Of a glove,

                    Not above

                    The size

                    Of a nice

                    Little baby's

                    Little fingers-

                    O he made

                    'Twas his trade

                  Of fish a pretty kettle

                    A kettle-

                    A kettle

                  Of fish a pretty kettle

                    A kettle!



                         IV.



                There was a naughty boy,

                  And a naughty boy was he,

                He ran away to Scotland

                  The people for to see-

                    There he found

                    That the ground

                    Was as hard,

                    That a yard

                    Was as long,

                    That a song

                    Was as merry,

                    That a cherry

                    Was as red,

                    That lead

                    Was as weighty,

                    That fourscore

                    Was as eighty,

                    That a door

                    Was as wooden

                    As in England-

                  So he stood in his shoes

                    And he wonder'd,

                    He wonder'd,

                  He stood in his

                    Shoes and he wonder'd.





                        THE END


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