William Schwenck Gilbert (Уильям Швенк Гильберт)
The Bab Ballads. To the Terrestrial Globe
BY A MISERABLE WRETCH Roll on, thou ball, roll on! Through pathless realms of Space Roll on! What though I’m in a sorry case? What though I cannot meet my bills? What though I suffer toothache’s ills? What though I swallow countless pills? Never you mind! Roll on! Roll on, thou ball, roll on! Through seas of inky air Roll on! It’s true I’ve got no shirts to wear; It’s true my butcher’s bill is due; It’s true my prospects all look blue— But don’t let that unsettle you! Never you mind! Roll on!
William Schwenck Gilbert’s other poems: