Читать книгу Come Hither: A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of All Ages онлайн

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William Blake

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I'll sing you a good old song,

Made by a good old pate,

Of a fine old English gentleman

Who had an old estate,

And who kept up his old mansion

At a bountiful old rate;

With a good old porter to relieve

The old poor at his gate,

Like a fine old English gentleman

All of the olden time.

His hall so old was hung around

With pikes and guns and bows,

And swords, and good old bucklers,

That had stood some tough old blows;

'Twas there his worship held his state

In doublet and trunk hose,

And quaffed his cup of good old sack,

To warm his good old nose,

Like a fine old English gentleman

All of the olden time.

When winter's cold brought frost and snow,

He opened house to all;

And though threescore and ten his years,

He featly led the ball;

Nor was the houseless wanderer

E'er driven from his hall;

For while he feasted all the great,

He ne'er forgot the small;

Like a fine old English gentleman

All of the olden time.

But time, though old, is strong in flight,