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Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)


Benjamin Franklin


Franklin fathered bastards fourteen,
(So I read in the New Yorker);
If it's true, in terms of courtin'
Benny must have been a corker.
To be prudent I've aspired,
And my passions I have mastered;
So that I have never sired
A single bastard.

One of course can never know;
But I think that if I had
It would give me quite a glow
When a kiddie called me 'Dad.'
Watching toddlers at their play,
Parentage I'd gladly claim,
But their mothers smiling say:
'You're not to blame.'

Ben founded the Satevepost,
And for that I much respect him;
But fourteen is quite a host
Paternally to elect him.
'Fatherhood is not a crime,'
Deemed fat Ben, 'there could be others...
Darlings, I had not the time
To wed your mothers.'



Robert William Service's other poems:
  1. Weary
  2. My Childhood God
  3. At San Sebastian
  4. The Actor
  5. Prelude (They say that rhyme and rhythm are)


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