Tho' a wicked life I led,
When the naked I've beheld,
I've cloathed them and fed;
Sometimes in a Coat of Winter's pride,
Sometimes in a russet grey,
The naked I've cloathed, the hungry fed,
And the Rich I've sent empty away.
As I was riding out one day,
I saw a Prisoner going to Jail,
Because his debts he could not pay,