On the tide you ride head high,
Like a whale 'mid little fishes;
I should envy you as I
Help my wife to wash the dishes.
Yet frock-coat and stove-pipe hat
Cannot hide your folds of fat.
You are reckoned a success,
And the public praise you win;
There's your picture in the Press,
Pouchy eyes and triple chin.
Wealth,-of it you fairly stink;
Health,-what does your Doctor think?
Dignity is phoney stuff.
Who is dignified deep down?
Strip the pants off, call the bluff,
Common clay are king and clown.
Let a bulging belly be
Your best bid for dignity.
Miserable millionaire!
For indulgence you must pay.
Yet there's salvation in prayer,-
Down on your fat knees and pray.
Know that with your dying breath
There is dignity in death.
To A Stuffed Shirt
Robert Service
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Poem topics: breath, death, success, wife, pray, head, wealth, king, deep, health, wash, picture, hide, salvation, public, high, common, prayer, indulgence, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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