Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/79

Rh

A pencil, sir; a penny–won’t you buy? I’m cold and wet and tired, a sorry plight; Don’t turn your back, sir; take one just to try; I haven’t made a single sale to-night. Oh, thank you, sir; but take the pencil too; I’m not a beggar, I’m a business man. Pencils I deal in, red and black and blue; It’s hard, but still I do the best I can. Most days I make enough to pay for bread, A cup o’ coffee, stretching room at night. One needs so little–to be warm and fed, A hole to kennel in–oh, one’s all right…