This page has been validated.
( 7 )
The lawyer lives under the hill,
Gaffer Gray,
Warmly fenced both in back and in front,
“He’ll fasten the locks,
And will threaten the stocks.
Should he ever more find me in want,
Well-a-day!”
The 'Squire has good beef and brown ale,
Gaffer Gray,
And the season will welcome you there;
“The fat beef and his beer,
And his merry New Year,
Are all for the flush and the fair,
Well-a-day!"
My keg is but low, I confess,
Gaffer Gray,
What then, while it lasts man, we’ll live;
"The poor man alone,
When he hears the poor moan.
Of his morsel a morsel will give,
Well-a-day!”
(❂)—❂—❂—(❂)—❂—❂—(❂)
THE PARADOX.
WE bipeds made up of frail clay,
Alas! we the children of ſorrow,
And though brisk and merry to-day,
We all may be wretched tomorrow.
