Poor children first,—a woeful sight!—
March’d on in pitiable plight,
Though ill provided to sustain
The howling wind and pelting rain.[4]
Huddled together, see, they go;
Collected but to make a show;—
Their warmest, neatest, only dress,
A rag to hide their nakedness!
“Billy the tailor, a brisk fellow,”
Came next, beneath a huge umbrella;