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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342678" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Social Call</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, well, old Father Christmas, is it you,<br>With your thick neck and thin pretense of virtue?<br>Less redness in the nose-nay, even some blue<br>Would not, I think, particularly hurt you.<br>When seen close to, not mounted in your car,<br>You look the drunkard and the pig you are.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No matter, sit you down, for I am not<br>In a gray study, as you sometimes find me.<br>Merry? O, no, nor wish to be, God wot,<br>But there's another year of pain behind me.<br>That's something to be thankful for: the more<br>There are behind, the fewer are before.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know you, Father Christmas, for a scamp,<br>But Heaven endowed me at my soul's creation<br>With an affinity to every tramp<br>That walks the world and steals its admiration.<br>For admiration is like linen left<br>Upon the line-got easiest by theft.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Good God! old man, just think of it! I've stood,<br>With brains and honesty, some five-and-twenty<br>Long years as champion of all that's good,<br>And taken on the mazzard thwacks a-plenty.<br>Yet now whose praises do the people bawl?<br>Those of the fellows whom I live to maul!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why, this is odd!-the more I try to talk<br>Of you the more my tongue grows egotistic<br>To prattle of myself! I'll try to balk<br>Its waywardness and be more altruistic.<br>So let us speak of others-how they sin,<br>And what a devil of a state they 're in!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That's all I have to say. Good-bye, old man.<br>Next year you possibly may find me scolding<br>Or miss me altogether: Nature's plan<br>Includes, as I suppose, a final folding<br>Of these poor empty hands. Then dropp a tear<br>To think they'll never box another ear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ambrose+Bierce">Ambrose Bierce</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342678" data-title="A Social Call de Ambrose Bierce" data-description="Well, well, old Father Christmas, is it you,
With your thick neck and thin pretense of virtue?
Less redness in the nose-nay, even some blue
Would not, I think, particularly hurt you.
When seen close to, not mounted in your car,
You look the drunka..."></div>
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