LAYS OF THE LAZY.
I’ve wander’d on the distant shore,
I’ve braved the dangers of the deep,
I’ve very often pass’d the Nore—
At Greenwich climb’d the well-known steep;
I’ve sometimes dined at Conduit House,
I’ve taken at Chalk Farm my tea,
I’ve at the Eagle talk’d with Rouse—
But I have NOT forgotten thee!
“I’ve stood amid the glittering throng”
Of mountebanks at Greenwich fair,
Where I have heard the Chinese gong
Filling, with brazen voice, the air.
I’ve join’d wild revellers at night—
I’ve crouch’d beneath the old oak tree,
Wet through, and in a pretty plight,
But, oh! I’ve NOT forgotten thee!
I’ve earn’d, at times, a pound a week—
Alas! I’m earning nothing now;
Chalk scarcely shames my whiten’d cheek,
Grief has plough’d furrows in my brow.
I only get one meal a day,
And that one meal—oh, God!—my tea;
I’m wasting silently away,
But I have NOT forgotten thee!
My days are drawing to their end—
I’ve now, alas! no end in view;
I never had a real friend—
I wear a worn-out black surtout,
My heart is darken’d o’er with woe,
My trousers whiten’d at the knee,
My boot forgets to hide my toe—
But I have NOT forgotten thee!