Francis Bret Harte (Фрэнсис Брет Гарт)
Alnaschar
Here's yer toy balloons! All sizes! Twenty cents for that. It rises Jest as quick as that 'ere, Miss, Twice as big. Ye see it is Some more fancy. Make it square Fifty for 'em both. That's fair. That's the sixth I've sold since noon. Trade's reviving. Just as soon As this lot's worked off, I'll take Wholesale figgers. Make or break,— That's my motto! Then I'll buy In some first-class lottery One half ticket, numbered right— As I dreamed about last night. That'll fetch it. Don't tell me! When a man's in luck, you see, All things help him. Every chance Hits him like an avalanche. Here's your toy balloons, Miss. Eh? You won't turn your face this way? Mebbe you'll be glad some day. With that clear ten thousand prize This 'yer trade I'll drop, and rise Into wholesale. No! I'll take Stocks in Wall Street. Make or break,— That's my motto! With my luck, Where's the chance of being stuck? Call it sixty thousand, clear, Made in Wall Street in one year. Sixty thousand! Umph! Let's see! Bond and mortgage'll do for me. Good! That gal that passed me by Scornful like—why, mebbe I Some day'll hold in pawn—why not?— All her father's prop. She'll spot What's my little game, and see What I'm after's HER. He! he! He! he! When she comes to sue— Let's see! What's the thing to do? Kick her? No! There's the perliss! Sorter throw her off like this. Hello! Stop! Help! Murder! Hey! There's my whole stock got away, Kiting on the house-tops! Lost! All a poor man's fortin! Cost? Twenty dollars! Eh! What's this? Fifty cents! God bless ye, Miss!
Francis Bret Harte’s other poems:
