Ballade Of A Great Weariness

 There's little to have but the things I had,
There's little to bear but the things I bore.

There's nothing to carry and naught to add,
And glory to Heaven, I paid the score.


There's little to do but I did before,
There's little to learn but the things I know;
And this is the sum of a lasting lore:
Scratch a lover, and find a foe.


And couldn't it be I was young and mad
If ever my heart on my sleeve I wore?
There's many to claw at a heart unclad,
And little the wonder it ripped and tore.

There's one that'll join in their push and roar,
With stories to jabber, and stones to throw;
He'll fetch you a lesson that costs you sore:
Scratch a lover, and find a foe.


So little I'll offer to you, my lad;
It's little in loving I set my store.

There's many a maid would be flushed and glad,
And better you'll knock at a kindlier door.

I'll dig at my lettuce, and sweep my floor,
Forever, forever I'm done with woe.

And happen I'll whistle about my chore,
"Scratch a lover, and find a foe.
"



L'ENVOI

Oh, beggar or prince, no more, no more!
Be off and away with your strut and show.

The sweeter the apple, the blacker the core:
Scratch a lover, and find a foe!

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