THE TRAMP'S SONG
63
But one day he complained of reverses— Said his money just then was not free—There were bills he must pay on the morrow— And he wanted to borrow of me.
So I loaned him all of the money I had saved for some chance rainy day,—And in less than a month I was homeless— My family were kidnapped away! What inducement he tendered, I know not, Or whether 'twas mesmeric power Which lured my poor, true-hearted girlie From me and our beautiful bower.
Were he here now, ah, could I forgive him— Would duty, and right, say I must? Could I extend the hand-grasp of friendship To him who has broken that trust? I can only pray God to forgive him— And me. For with memory's stamp Comes the knowledge of why I am needy— And why people call me—a tramp.
I sold our dear cot mid the roses, And stealthily set out to trace The whereabouts of my dear loved ones, And I wandered from place to place
