Sour Sonnets of a Sorehead & Other Songs of the Street/Sorehead Sonnet Fourteen

by James Percival Haverson

Sorehead Sonnet Fourteen

The other day I nearly got a job;
"Good pay an' easy work," the paper said.
I started for the address on the dead—
But what's the use?—You should have seen the mob.
I tried to pass one husky-lookin' slob,
An' ever since I've had to stay in bed
An' wear this rotten bandage on my head,
Feelin' exactly like a strangled squab.
It seems that hope an' me has got to part;
Me bunch of luck has surely gone astray;
For me, life's been a sort of early frost.
I must have picked a lemon at the start;
You couldn't move me hoodoo wid a dray—
It looks like Fate has got her fingers crost.