Old Men Complaining

First old Man     HE threw his crutched stick down: there came     Into his face the anger flame,     And he spoke viciously of one     Who thwarted him—his son’s son.     He turned his head away.—“I hate     Absurdity of language, prate     From growing fellows. We’d not stay     About the house the whole of a day         When we were young,     Keeping no job and giving tongue!     “Not us in troth! We would not come     For bit or sup, but stay from home     If we gave answers, or we’d creep     Back to the house, and in we’d peep     Just like a corncrake.     “My grandson and his comrades take     A piece of coal from you, from me     A log, or sod of turf, maybe;     And in some empty place they’ll light     A fire, and stay there all night,     A wisp of lads! Now understand     The blades of grass under my hand     Would be destroyed by company!     There’s no good company: we go     With what is lowest to the low!     He stays up late, and how can he     Rise early? Sure he lags in bed,     And she is worn to a thread     With calling him—his grandmother.     She’s an old woman, and she must make     Stir when the birds are half awake     In dread he’d lose this job like the other!” Second Old Man     “They brought yon fellow over here,     And set him up for an overseer:     Though men from work are turned away     That thick-necked fellow draws full pay—     Three pounds a week…. They let burn down     The timber yard behind the town     Where work was good; though firemen stand     In boots and brasses big and grand     The crow of a cock away from the place.     And with the yard they let burn too     The clock in the tower, the clock I knew     As well as I know the look in my face.” Third Old Man     “The fellow you spoke of has broken his bounds—     He came to skulk inside of these grounds:     Behind the bushes he lay down     And stretched full hours in the sun.     He rises now, and like a crane     He looks abroad. He’s off again:     Three pounds a week, and still he owes     Money in every street he goes,     Hundreds of pounds where we’d not get     The second shilling of a debt.” First old Man     “Old age has every impediment     Vexation and discontent;     The rich have more than we: for bit     The cut of bread, and over it     The scrape of hog’s lard, and for sup     Warm water in a cup.     But different sorts of feeding breaks     The body more than fasting does     With pains and aches.     “I’m not too badly off, for I     Have pipe and tobacco, a place to lie,     A nook to myself; but from my hand     Is taken the strength to back command—     I’m broken, and there’s gone from me     The privilege of authority.”       I heard them speak—       The old men heavy on the sod,       Letting their angers come       Between them and the thought of God.