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8
PARODY ON THE LAST ROSE of SUMMER
’Tis the last silver shilling,
Left shining alone;
All its lovely companions
Are melted and gone;
No coin of its kindred,
No credit is nigh,
To brighten our wishes,
And drown the sad sigh!
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one
To pine on the board;
Since the landlord desires thee,
Go, swell thou his hoard.
Thus foolish I scatter
What should purchase bread,
To pamper an idler,
And gain a sore head.
And soon I must follow-
Finances decay;
For now from before me
The stoup's snatch'd away.
When half-crowns are melted,
And cruckies are flown,
Ah! who would inhabit
A tavern alone!
