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| A poem by William Makepeace Thackeray | ||
| The Speculators | ||
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					  	  ________________________________________________ Title: The Speculators Author: William Makepeace Thackeray [More Titles by Thackeray] The night was stormy and dark, The town was shut up in sleep: Only those were abroad who were out on a lark, Or those who'd no beds to keep. I pass'd through the lonely street, The wind did sing and blow; I could hear the policeman's feet Clapping to and fro. There stood a potato-man In the midst of all the wet; He stood with his 'tato-can In the lonely Haymarket. Two gents of dismal mien. And dark and greasy rags, Came out of a shop for gin Swaggering over the flags:   Swaggering over the stones,   Was I sober or awake?   I wondered more and more:   "I wrote for twenty," says Jim,   "O Jim, you are unawares   "And yet you got no shares,"   "I lost, for I couldn't pay   And at this simple feast   Their talk did me perplex,   "Bless railroads everywhere,"   For never a beggar need now despair, -THE END- GO TO TOP OF SCREEN | 
 
  
	
