Tom Daly
Reading edition
(Showing the Italian's love of the Beautiful, which he makes his own more than the Anglo-Saxon dreams of doing.)
CARLO THE GARDENER
De poets dey tinka dey gotta da tree, Dey gotta da arta, da birda—but me, I lova da arta, I lova da flower, (Ah, bella fioretta!) I waita da hour: I mowa da grass, I rake uppa da leaf— I brava young Carlo—Maria! fine t'ief! I waita Till later. Da poets go homa, go finda da sup', I creep by dis tree and I digga her up, (Da Grackla, da blossom, da tree-a I love, Per Dio! and da art!) So I giva da shove, I catcha da birda, I getta da tree, I taka to Rosa my wife, and den she— She gotta In potta!