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390 CHINESE LITERATURE
Stand begging where the cross-roads meet no more; Or skiver me to sleep in the rush hut, dank and cold; Or lean against the rich or poor man's door. Away my yellow bowl, my earthen jar ! See, thus I rend my pouch and hurl my gourd afar I
An official hat and girdle 1 shall wear, And this shrunk shank in boots with pipeclayed soles encase; On fete and holiday how jovial I shall be,
Joining my friends in the tavern or the tea-shop o'er their tea', Swagger, swagger, swagger, with such an air and grace. Sometimes a sleek steed my ' Excellence* will bear; Or in a sedan I shall ride at ease, One servant with my hat-box close behind the chair, While another on his shoulders carries my valise. n
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