Sour Sonnets of a Sorehead & Other Songs of the Street/Sorehead Sonnet Three
Sorehead Sonnet Three
If I could pound a pickaxe into Fate,
An' wallop Fortune wid an icy mitt,
That is the time that I would make a hit;
I'd be the Candy Kid, I beg to state.
I'd do a stunt that would be truly great;
You bet I'd make some pikers throw a fit;
Among the knockers I'd be known as "It";
I'd make the world put markers on the date.
But Joy's a Joke that never does come off,
Life's just a sellin' plater at the most;
Death plays the dope that never has been matched;
Although some rummy may be moved to scoff,
Good luck is surely waiting at the post,
An', on the square, I think that Hope is scratched.