Classic Poem

To name a Day for general prayer and fast
Is surely worse than of no sort of use;
For you may see with grief, from first to last,
On fast -days people of all ranks are loose .

Going round the back street,
Through the twilight lane,
While the folk at church meet —
Coming home again.

Faded hat and creasy,
Long since it was new;
Tent-fly torn and greasy,
Bluey showing through.

Billy burnt and battered,
Boots all badly burst,
Lace and lace-holes shattered,
Trousers at their worst.

Blankets like a riddle,
With a streak of white
Down the threadbare middle
When against the light.

Young face lined and sunburnt,
Hair just turning grey;
Many a lesson unlearnt
Since he went away.

But he need not bother,
There's a bite and sup;
And for all the other —
Mother'll fix him up.