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GOD prosper long our good Lord Mayor,
And give him wealth and wit!
A little wisdom too mote well
His judgement-seat befit.
Come listen all ye prentice lads,
Sore set to drudge and fast,
How that good luck and industrie
Will make a man at last.
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| Whittington, | When our third Edward ruled the land,
A king of glorious fame,
An humble boy there lived also,
Dick Whittington by name.
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| an orphan
boy, | His father and his mother too
Were laid beneath the sod:
But he was left, and all alone
The path of misery trod.
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| destitute, |
No woollen hose wore he, nor shoes
Upon his shivering feet;
A tatter’d cloak was all he had
To ward the rain and sleet.
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| Yet, though his breast was cold without,
His heart was warm within;
And he grumbled not, for well he wot
That envy is a sin.
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| but industrious, | And he would fight with all his might
To earn his daily bread:
Alas, to think how oft he went
All supperless to bed!
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| had heard
great reports
of London. | Now he had heard of London town,
And what the folks did there:
How aldermen did eat and drink,
And plenty had to spare.
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| And how the streets were full of shops,
And shops were full of food;
Of beef, and mutton, cheese and ham,
And every thing that’s good.
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| And how the men and women all
Were lords and ladies there;
And little boys were rigg’d as smart
As monkeys at a fair.
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| But what most wonderful did seem,
Of all he had heard told,
Was how the streets of that great town
Were paved with solid gold.
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| Resolved to
get there, | Heyday! thought he, if only I
Could get to that fine place!
’Twould not be long ere I would change
My miserable case.
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| he makes his
way on foot. | Now started off for London town
Before the break of day,
He fared beside a waggoner
Who drove his team that way.
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| All day they trudged until the sun
Had sunk behind the hill;
And when he rose again next morn
He saw them trudging still.
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| His joy to
behold that
land of
plenty. | At length a multitudinous smoke
Hid half th’ horizon round:
And such a sight of chimney-pots!
Dick gaped with joy and stound.
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| He thought how often he had lain
Beneath the cold damp air;
While here was house-room sure for all,
And fires i’faith to spare.
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| ’Twere hard indeed if one should need
A chimney-corner here:
And from the drays that block’d the ways
Small lack could be of beer.
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| ’Twas thus thought Dick, and so full quick
The waggoner he left;
And was not long, ere thro’ the throng
His nimble way he cleft.
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| His subsequent
disappointment; | Thro’ street, thro’ lane, full fast he ran;
But marvell’d to behold
The ways all strown with dirt and stone,
And not with solid gold.
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| And folks were not all lords he thought,
Nor ladies of degree:
For here were rags, and here were tags,
As in his own countrie.
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| when hungry
and cold, | Yet, where such plenty seem’d of all
A hungry lad mote need,
Tho’ rags were there he did not care:
He could not fail to speed.
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| he is neither
fed by the
victualler; | So at a shop he made a stop:
Before his well-spread board
The vict’ller stood, in jolly mood;
Dick thought he was a lord.
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| In cap ydight and waistcoat white
He beckon’d folks within;
While fumes arose to tell the nose
Of all that savoury bin.
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| Dick’s joy was great to see the meat;
So in he ran with haste:
Alas! roast beef is nought but grief
To such as may not taste.
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| The vict’ller’s eye right scornfully
Scann’d Dick from foot to head;
Who begg’d, for love of God above,
A bit of meat and bread.
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| “For one small groat it may be bought;
“I’faith it is not dear:
“But no sirloin withouten coin,
“Nor room for beggars here.”
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| Thereat a pamper’d cur rush’d forth
And bit Dick’s naked feet:
Who by the wrathful victualler
Was shoved into the street.
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| nor covered
by the
clothier; | Next shivering in his tatter’d dress
He view’d a clothier’s store;
But, as he was all penniless,
They drove him from the door.
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| Ah, tradesmen sleek! ah, Christians meek!
Why will ye swell with pride,
When ragged want or wretched woe
Stands shivering at your side?
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| nor even
heeded by
any body. | Alas, poor boy! what could he do?
The busy crowd swept past:
But all on self intent, or pelf,
No eye on him was cast.
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| He strove to beg: some heard him not,
And some would not believe:
Some heard him and believed him too,
But yet would not relieve.
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| Want most
grievous in
the midst of
plenty. | Oh! hunger is a galling thing,
Where nought is there to eat;
But three times more it galleth sore
To starve midst bread and meat.
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| At last he is
noticed by a
merchant-citizen, | Now just as Dick all spent and sick
Had laid him down to die,
A citizen of gentle mien
It chanced came walking by.
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| A merchant he of high degree,
With ruffles all of lace;
And Nature’s true nobility
Was blazon’d in his face.
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| who takes
him home,
and feeds
him. | He up did pick and home led Dick,
And gave him food to eat:
Then sent him to a clean warm bed,
Not back into the street.
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| “Thank God! for that I pass’d that way
“This night,“ the good man cried;
“For had I walk’d another way,
“Poor boy! he might have died.”
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| The morning come, Dick early rose,
And thank’d him from his heart;
And told him how no friend on earth
He had to take his part.
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| This merchant
becomes
his
friend. | “Then I’m your friend,” the kind man cried,
“And you shall live with me:
“And you shall tend my merchandize,
“And keep my granary.”
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| and employs
him in his
granary; | How danced for joy the lucky boy,
To see his alter’d plight!
He watch’d his granary by day,
And lock’d it fast by night.
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| Now stored within this granary,
Were corn and wine and oil,
And cheese and other precious things
Which rats and mice do spoil.
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| where there
lived a cat, | So there with Dick ydwelt a cat;
A tabby cat was she:
As sleek and soft, and eke as fat,
As any cat could be.
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| of social
temper, | And she about his legs would purr,
And on his knees would sit;
And every meal he took, for her
He saved a dainty bit.
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| and high
quality. | And not a mouse came near her house
But swallow’d was alive:
And not a rat but felt her pat:
No wonder she did thrive!
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| The birth
of a kitten: | Now scarce three moons had waned and fill’d,
Since Dick’s lone hours she cheer’d,
When at her side, as Heaven will’d,
A kitten there appear’d.
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| and Dick’s
twofold delight
thereafter. | Then Dick’s delight was doubled quite;
For one may well avouch,
Whatever fun there was in one
In two was twice as much.
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| This kitten’s
surpassing
beauty, | All black and red this kitten’s head
Look’d like a polish’d stone:
All red and black this kitten’s back
Like tortoiseshell it shone.
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| Full sure I am that well its dam
Might dote on such a kit:
The very rats that flee from cats
Would stand and stare at it.
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| and most
pleasant humour. | Its tail it whisk’d and leapt and frisk’d,
In weather fair and foul:
Or cold, or hot, it matter’d not
To such a merry soul.
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| But who could see such joyful glee
And not be joyous too?
So Dick forgot his sorry lot
And laugh’d as others do.
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| Dick acquires
his
first property. | Which when the merchant saw, and how
The kitten it was grown,
Of his free gift to Whittington
He gave it for his own.
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