"Laugh and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone!"
That is the poet's watchword
Murmured in monotone.
Sadly he drains his pewter,
Grimly you hear him groan
"Laugh and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone!"
Ask if he'll "try another";
How will the bard respond!
Watch the replenished pewter
Meet with a gaze as fond,
Tender, and true and yearning,
Gentle and sweet and mild,
E'en as a lovong mother
Beams on a lovely child!
Aye, he will tell his troubles,
And, with a soulful tear,
Bury his face in his pewter --
Drink down his pint of beer.
Ah, how the world neglects him;
He of the teeming brain! He --
"What was that? Well, thank you.
Give me the same again!"
Ah, 'tis a dreary story:
Always the same old tale
Told by the Pint-Pot Poet,
Thirsting for quarts of ale!
Always the world is cruel --
That is the dismal drone:
"Laugh and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone!"
"Laugh and the world laughs
with you; Weep, and you weep alone!
Ask them for bread," he tells you.
"What will they give? A stone!"
Ask them for bread? O, Poet!
Make not the scornful jeer!
Never for bread he asks them;
Only he asks for beer!
Hath not the world its troubles?
Hath not the world its throes?
Why must the world still listen
Unto the writer's woes?
Oh, but the world grows weary,
Aye, and its heart grows hard;
Tired of the Pint Pot Poet;
Sick of the Beery Bard!
First published in The Bulletin, 28 June 1906
