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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374805" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Moralist</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Three other soldier blokes 'n' me packed <br>'ome from foreign lands; <br>Bit into each the God of Battles' everlastin' <br>brands. <br>They limped in time, 'n' coughed in tune, 'n' <br>one was short an ear, <br>'N' one was short a tier of ribs 'n' all was <br>short of beer. <br>I speaks up like a temp'rance gent, <br>But ever since the sky was bent <br>The thirst of man 'as never yet bin squenched <br>with argument. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bill's skull was welded all across, Jim 'ad an <br>eye in soak, <br>Sam 'obbled on a patent leg, 'n' every man <br>was broke; <br>They sang a song of “Mother” with their faces <br>titled up. <br>Says Bill-o: “'Ere's yer 'eroes, sling the <br>bloomin' votive cup! <br>We got no beer, the soup was bad- <br>Now oo will stand the soldier lad <br>The swag of honest liquor that for years he <br>hasn't 'ad?” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sez I: “Respeck yer uniform! Remember <br>oo you are!” <br>They'd pinched a wicker barrer, 'arf a pram <br>'n' 'arf a car. <br>In this ole Bill-o nestled 'neath a blanket, on <br>his face <br>A someone's darlin' sorter look, a touch iv <br>boy'ood's grace. <br>The gentle ladies stopped to 'ear, <br>'N' dropped a symperthetic tear, <br>A dollar or a deener for the pore haff1ict <br>dear. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The others trucked the wounded to a hentrance <br>up a lane. <br>I sez: “Sich conduck's shameful!” Bill-o <br>took to ease his pain <br>One long 'un and another. The conductor <br>picked his brand; <br>The gripman lent his countenance to wot he <br>'ad in 'and. <br>And when they moved their stand 'twas <br>Sam <br>Lay pale 'n' peaceful in the pram, <br>'N' twenty flappers stroked his paw, 'n' said <br>he was a lamb. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The gathered in the tokens and they blooed <br>'em as above, <br>While Jim-o done the hinvalid 'oom Sammy <br>had to shove. <br>Sez I: “No noble 'eroes what's bin fightin' <br>for their king <br>Should smirch theirselves by doin' this dis- <br>'onerable thing.” <br>But fine old gents 'n' donahs prim <br>They stopped 'n' slid the beans to Jim. <br>You betcher life I let 'im hear just what I <br>though of 'im. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nine, g.m. at St. Kilder, saw the finish of the <br>prowl. <br>Each 'ad his full-'n'-plentv, and was blowin' <br>in the tow'l. <br>As neither bloke cud stand alone, they leaned <br>'n' argufied <br>Which was the patient sufferer oo's turn it was <br>to ride. <br>Each 'eld a san'wich and a can. <br>Sez I: “This shouldn't 'ave began- <br>'Tain't conduck wot it worthy of a soldier and <br>a man.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I cud 'a' cried with injured pride. Afore a <br>push the three <br>Got scrappin', vague 'n' foolish, which the <br>cripple boy should be. <br>Sam slips his scientific leg, 'n' flings it in the <br>drain- <br>“I'll auto 'ome,” he sez, “or never see me <br>'ome again.” <br>But I am thinkin' 'ard oo he <br>Tucked 'elpiess in the pram might be. <br>Comes sudden reckerlection. Great Gohan- <br>ners, it is me!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+George+Dyson">Edward George Dyson</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=374805" data-title="The Moralist de Edward George Dyson" data-description="Three other soldier blokes 'n' me packed 
'ome from foreign lands; 
Bit into each the God of Battles' everlastin' 
brands. 
They limped in time, 'n' coughed in tune, 'n' 
one was short an ear, 
'N' one was short a tier of ribs 'n' all was 
short o..."></div>
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