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Poem by Katherine Mansfield

Deaf House Agent

That deaf old man
With his hand to his ear--
His hand to hi head stood out like a shell,
Horny and hollow. He said, I cant hear,
He muttered, Dont shout,
I can hear very well!

He mumbled, I cant catch a word;
I cant follow.
Then Jack with a voice like a Protestant bell
Roared--Particulars! Farmhouse! At 10 quid a year!
I dunno wot place you are talking about.
Said the deaf old man.
Said Jack, What the Hell!
But the deaf old man took a pin from his desk, picked
a piece of wool the size of a hens egg from his ear,
had a good look at it, decided in its favour and re-
placed it in the aforementioned organ.

Katherine Mansfield

Katherine Mansfield's other poems:
  1. Sanary
  2. Song by the Window Before Bed
  3. Very Early Spring
  4. Voices of the Air
  5. A Fine Day

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