Fire arms oft' times do bring woes,
And they kill more friends than foes,
Hunting now o'er fertile fields,
'Tis seldom that it profit yields.
BIRD SENT BY PROVIDENCE.
A poor man stood beside his door,
His sad fate for to deplore,
For landlord's heart would not relent,
And seized his furniture for rent.
He hears song sweet as from fairy,
And soon he sees a canary,
Into his cage it did alight
And poured forth notes sweet and bright.
But owner of the bird did mourn,
And sadly longed for its return,
Without it she found no delight,
So she did landlord's bill requite.
The poor man thinks the bird was sent
By the Lord to pay up his rent,
And he now stout maintains from thence
That there is a kind Providence.
HELP IN NEED.
A poor man's horse it ran away,
Soon man upon the roadside lay,
With his leg all badly broken,
Of sympathy some gave token.
One said your trouble grieves my heart,
But with his money would not part,
Another said, while heaving sighs,
It brings the tears into mine eyes.