Careers

 Father is quite the greatest poet 
 That ever lived anywhere.
 
You say you’re going to write great music— 
 I chose that first: it’s unfair.
 
Besides, now I can’t be the greatest painter and 
 do Christ and angels, or lovely pears 
 and apples and grapes on a green dish, 
 or storms at sea, or anything lovely, 
Because that’s been taken by Claire.
 

It’s stupid to be an engine-driver,
 And soldiers are horrible men.
 
I won’t be a tailor, I won’t be a sailor, 
 And gardener’s taken by Ben.
 
It’s unfair if you say that you’ll write great 
 music, you horrid, you unkind (I sim- 
 ply loathe you, though you are my 
 sister), you beast, cad, coward, cheat, 
 bully, liar! 
Well? Say what’s left for me then! 

But we won’t go to your ugly music.

 (Listen!) Ben will garden and dig, 
And Claire will finish her wondrous pictures 
 All flaming and splendid and big.
 
And I’ll be a perfectly marvellous carpenter, 
 and I’ll make cupboards and benches
 and tables and .
.
.
 and baths, and 
 nice wooden boxes for studs and 
 money, 
And you’ll be jealous, you pig!

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