HAIL! Childish slaves of social rules

You had yourselves a hand in making!

How I could shake your faith, ye fools,

If but I thought it worth the shaking.

I see, and pity you; and then

Go, casting off the idle pity,

In search of better, braver men,

My own way freely through the city.

My own way freely, and not yours;

And, careless of a town’s abusing,

Seek real friendship that endures

Among the friends of my own choosing.

I’ll choose my friends myself, do you hear?

And won’t let Mrs. Grundy do it,

Tho’ all I honour and hold dear

And all I hope should move me to it.

I take my old coat from the shelf —

I am a man of little breeding.

And only dress to please myself —

I own, a very strange proceeding¹.

I smoke a pipe abroad, because

To all cigars I much prefer it,

And as I scorn your social laws

My choice has nothing to deter² it.

Gladly I trudge³ the footpath⁴ way,

While you and yours roll by in coaches

In all the pride of fine array,

Through all the city’s thronged⁵ approaches.

O fine religious, decent folk,

In Virtue’s flaunting⁶ gold and scarlet⁷,

I sneer⁸ between two puffs⁹ of smoke, —

Give me the publican and harlot.

Ye dainty-spoken, stiff, severe

Seed of the migrated Philistian,

分享到：