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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=342997" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Unpardonable Sin</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I reckon that ye never knew,<br>That dandy slugger, Tom Carew,<br>He had a touch as light an' free<br>As that of any honey-bee;<br>But where it lit there wasn't much<br>To jestify another touch.<br>O, what a Sunday-school it was<br>To watch him puttin' up his paws<br>An' roominate upon their heft<br>Particular his holy left!<br>Tom was my style-that's all I say;<br>Some others may be equal gay.<br>What's come of him? Dunno, I'm sure<br>He's dead-which make his fate obscure.<br>I only started in to clear<br>One vital p'int in his career,<br>Which is to say-afore he died<br>He soiled his erming mighty snide.<br>Ye see he took to politics<br>And learnt them statesmen-fellers' tricks;<br>Pulled wires, wore stovepipe hats, used scent,<br>Just like he was the President;<br>Went to the Legislator; spoke<br>Right out agin the British yoke<br>But that was right. He let his hair<br>Grow long to qualify for Mayor,<br>An' once or twice he poked his snoot<br>In Congress like a low galoot!<br>It had to come-no gent can hope<br>To wrastle God agin the rope.<br>Tom went from bad to wuss. Being dead,<br>I s'pose it oughtn't to be said,<br>For sech inikities as flow<br>From politics ain't fit to know;<br>But, if you think it's actin' white<br>To tell it-Thomas throwed a fight!</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=342997" data-title="The Unpardonable Sin de Ambrose Bierce" data-description="I reckon that ye never knew,
That dandy slugger, Tom Carew,
He had a touch as light an' free
As that of any honey-bee;
But where it lit there wasn't much
To jestify another touch.
O, what a Sunday-school it was
To watch him puttin' up his paws
An'..."></div>
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