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David Herbert Lawrence
1885-1930

Son of a coal miner and former schoolteacher, Lawrence, in his writings, "portrayed with vivid realism English provincial life - its economic hardships, class conflicts, and pastoral beauty in the process of erosion by industrialization."

WHAT IS MAN WITHOUT AN INCOME?

What is man without an income? -
Well, let him get on the dole!
Dole, dole, dole
hole, hole, hole
soul, soul, soul-

What is man without an income?
Answer without a rigmarole.
On the dole, dole, dole
he's a hole, hole, hole
in the nation's pocket.

-Now then, you leave a man's misfortunes alone!

He's got a soul, soul, soul,
but the coal, coal, coal
on the whole, whole, whole
doesn't pay,
so the dole, dole, dole's
the only way.

And on the dole, dole, dole
a man's a hole, hole, hole
in the nation's pocket,
and his soul, soul, soul
won't stop a hole, hole, hole
though his ashes might.

Immortal Caesar dead and turned to clay
would stop a hole to keep the wind away.

But a man without a job
isn't even as a gob
of clay.

Body and soul
he's just a hole
down which the nation's resources roll
away.

GREEN

The dawn was apple-green
The sky was green wine held up in the sun,
The moon was a golden petal between.

She opened her eyes, and green
They shone, clear like flowers undone
For the first time, now for the first time seen

CHERRY ROBBERS

Under the long dark boughs, like jewels red
In the hair of Eastern girl
Hang strings of crimson cherries, as if had bled
Blood-drops beneath each curl.

Under the glistening cherries, with folded wings
Three dead birds lie:
Pale-breasted throstles and a blackbird, robberlings,
Stained with red dye.

Against the haystack a girl stands laughing at me
Cherries hung round her ears.
Offers me her scarlet fruit: I will see
If she has any tears.

© 2000 Elena and Yacov Feldman