Explore "Imitation of Richepin's Ballade of the Beggars' King" by Joyce Kilmer on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Hey, come to me, you slipshod race, / Picklocks and squealing bagpipe crew, / Come, strumpet, knave and monkey-face, / Come loafers, I'm the lad for you! / Come ragged cloak and tattered shoe, / Your wild, hot liberty I sing, / For I am of your nation, too, / The poet is the beggars' king.
You playthings of the copper's mace, / You toys of wind and rain and dew, / You whom the yelping watchdogs chase, / Whom blows and noisome ills pursue, / Whose paltry rags the wind strikes through / As through some rotten paper thing, / To whom nor want nor woe is new, / The poet is the beggars' king.
You hoboes, whom the sun's embrace / Has burned to darkly golden hue, / You trollops, full of love and grace, / Whom half a hundred lovers woo, / You little crawling babies who / Just wear your hides for costuming, / Old toothless men with noses blue, / The poet is the beggars' king.
L'ENVOI
My subjects all and vassals true, / Come, give me royal welcoming, / May booze be plenty, bulls be few, / The poet is the beggars' king.