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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508807" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Mystery Of Mister Smith</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">For supper we had curried tripe.<br>I washed the dishes, wound the clock;<br>Then for awhile I smoked my pipe -<br>Puff! Puff! We had no word of talk.<br>The Misses sewed - a sober pair;<br>Says I at last: &quot;I need some air.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A don't know why I acted so;<br>I had no thought, no plot, no plan.<br>I did not really mean to go -<br>I'm such a docile little man;<br>But suddenly I felt that I<br>Must change my life or I would die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A sign I saw: A ROOM TO LET.<br>It had a musty, dusty smell;<br>It gloated gloom, it growled and yet<br>Somehow I felt I liked it well.<br>I paid the rent a month ahead:<br>That night I smoked my pipe in bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From out my world I disappeared;<br>My walk and talk changed over-night.<br>I bought black glasses, grew a beard -<br>Abysmally I dropped from sight;<br>Old Tax Collector, Mister Smith<br>Became a memory, a myth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see my wife in widow's weeds;<br>She's gained in weight since I have gone.<br>My pension serves her modest needs,<br>She keeps the old apartment on;<br>And living just a block away<br>I meet her nearly every day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hope she doesn't mourn too much;<br>She has a sad and worried look.<br>One day we passed and chanced to touch,<br>But as with sudden fear I shook,<br>So blankly in my face she peered,<br>I had to chuckle in my beard.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, comfort is a blessed thing,<br>But forty years of it I had.<br>I never drank the wine of Spring,<br>No moon has ever made me mad.<br>I never clutched the skirts of Chance<br>Nor daftly dallied with Romance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And that is why I seek to save<br>My soul before it is too late,<br>To put between me and the grave<br>A few years of fantastic fate:<br>I've won to happiness because<br>I've killed the man that once I was.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've murdered Income Taxer Smith,<br>And now I'm Johnny Jones to you.<br>I have no home, no kin, no kith,<br>I do the things I want to do.<br>No matter though I've not a friend,<br>I've won to freedom in the end.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bohemian born, I guess, was I;<br>And should my wife her widowhood<br>By wedlock end I will not sigh,<br>But pack my grip and go for good,<br>To live in lands where laws are lax,<br>And innocent of Income Tax.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</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=508807" data-title="The Mystery Of Mister Smith de Robert William Service" data-description="For supper we had curried tripe.
I washed the dishes, wound the clock;
Then for awhile I smoked my pipe -
Puff! Puff! We had no word of talk.
The Misses sewed - a sober pair;
Says I at last: &quot;I need some air.&quot;

A don't know why I acted s..."></div>
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