The Song of the Gatherer.
THE SONG OF THE GATHERER. By Paul L. Dunbar.
' I "HE plutocrat hoards up his treasures of gold, -*. And smiles in his power and pride; While he seals up his coffers, withholds his great store From the paupers who wail at his side. He has laid his foundation and built on it "Wealth," — A tower that never will fall. Then he scribbles a will and he passes away, And the lawyer he gathereth all. The farmer he plants, and he tends, and he reaps, And he garners his grain with a will; Then he finds a good market for all he would sell, And laughs at the winds growing chill. For his pockets are full and his granaries, too, There's a plenty for kitchen and stall; But he places a mortgage — a small one of course, And the lawyer he gathereth all. The miser goes ragged and lives on a crust, Then childless and will-less, he dies; When, lo! from Obscurity's corners remote, How his heirs and relations arise! And they quibble and fight about reason and right, And start up a terrible brawl; But while they are spending their breath and their cash, The lawyer he gathereth all. And so it goes on to the end of the tale, That rich men and farmers and fools Will bury their hands in the depths of the chest, To play with the keen-edged tools. But one jolly wight looks on at the sight, And no tears for their follies lets fall. And this song doth he sing as their tribute they bring : "Oh, the lawyer he gathereth all."
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