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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419509" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Lout</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">For Sunday's play he never makes excuse,<br>But plays at taw, and buys his Spanish juice.<br>Hard as his toil, and ever slow to speak,<br>Yet he gives maidens many a burning cheek;<br>For none can pass him but his witless grace<br>Of bawdry brings the blushes in her face.<br>As vulgar as the dirt he treads upon<br>He calls his cows or drives his horses on;<br>He knows the lamest cow and strokes her side<br>And often tries to mount her back and ride,<br>And takes her tail at night in idle play,<br>And makes her drag him homeward all the way.<br>He knows of nothing but the football match,<br>And where hens lay, and when the duck will hatch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Clare">John Clare</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=419509" data-title="The Lout de John Clare" data-description="For Sunday's play he never makes excuse,
But plays at taw, and buys his Spanish juice.
Hard as his toil, and ever slow to speak,
Yet he gives maidens many a burning cheek;
For none can pass him but his witless grace
Of bawdry brings the blushes in..."></div>
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