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I hate that Andrew Jones; he'll breed
His children up to waste and pillage. I wish the press-gang or the drum With its tantara sound would come, And sweep him from the village! I said not this, because he loves Through the long day to swear and tipple; But for the poor dear sake of one To whom a foul deed he had done, A friendless man, a travelling cripple! For this poor crawling helpless wretch, Some horseman who was passing by, A penny on the ground had thrown; But the poor cripple was alone And could not stoop--no help was nigh. Inch-thick the dust lay on the ground For it had long been droughty weather; So with his staff the cripple wrought Among the dust till he had brought The half-pennies together. It chanced that Andrew passed that way Just at the time; and there he found The cripple in the mid-day heat Standing alone, and at his feet He saw the penny on the ground. He stopped and took the penny up: And when the cripple nearer drew, Quoth Andrew, "Under half-a-crown, What a man finds is all his own, And so, my Friend, good-day to you." And 'hence' I said, that Andrew's boys Will all be trained to waste and pillage; And wished the press-gang, or the drum With its tantara sound, would come And sweep him from the village. Unsatisfied? Search for more:Other Cool Sites:Hot Arts & Stage NewsLyrics Catalogue Sound Tracks Guide Guide to Serials and Shows English Subtitles For DivX Movies Hundreds of Cooking Recipes Over 5000 Cocktails Recipes Cool Online Encyclopedia Cellulars Descriptions and Reviews Algorithms Dictionary Funny Jokes and Anecdotes. Usenet Newsgroups Reader |