Poor Joe

Sarah Anne Curzon
1833 – 1898


He cannot dance, you say, nor sing,
Nor troll a lilting stave;
And when the rest are cracking jokes
He’s silent as the grave.

Poor Joe! I know he cannot sing—
His voice is somewhat harsh:
But he can whistle loud and clear
As plover in the marsh.

Nor does he dance, but he would walk
Long miles to serve a friend,
And though he cares not crack a joke,
He will the truth defend.

And so, though he for company
May not be much inclined,
I love poor Joe, and think his home
Will be just to my mind.

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