THE MISER’S AWAY!
The miser’s away, and he’ll never come back,
Any more his rusty old guineas to crack,
By his niggardly fare, of potatoes and fish,
His successor enjoys a more plentiful dish.
I once had occasion to pass by his door,
Whose threshold so seldom was cross’d by the poor,
A kitten came out in its innocent play,
And pleasantly three-thrumm’d—“The Miser’s away!”
The way weary traveller, to shorten the mile,
Sometimes has occasion to go by the style;
The gain that he gets, his spirit revives,
He cuts off an elbow, and sooner arrives.
Through one of his fields the pathway doth lie,
And very few ’scap’d the dint of his eye.
The gate as it opens and creaks, seems to say,
’Pass stranger, and welcome’—“The Miser’s away!”
In his ancient old Intake, long kept without fence,
And without cultivation, for fear of expence,
By the plough, or the spade, the rough is made plain,
And the hopeful young husbandman scatters the grain.
Where the bones of the gimmer decay’d on the ground,
And nettles and briars were every where found,
Fine corn is now growing, all smiling and gay;
It had not been so, but—“The Miser’s away!”
The birds haste away to the green holly bush,
The blackbird now tries to outrival the thrush;
They tip the tall branches on fluttering wing,
Make nearer approaches, and merrily sing.
The flowers in the garden around the bee-hive,
With unwonted freshness begin to revive,
To each new beholder their beauties display,
And whisper in perfume—“The Miser’s away!”
Here among his old books his Sabbaths he spent,
On logic and physic sat making comment;—
He thought it would be the best method to use,
To save both his carcase, his money, and shoes;—
He’d be his own doctor, and preacher likewise,
And his old yellow heap, like a mountain would rise!
The riches he heap’d up, by night and by day,
Another has found, for—“The Miser’s away!”
THE MISTAKE:
Containing a Moral for high looks, and forward folks.
Ye sportsmen bright of skill, and sight,
Who range o’er hill and dale;
Awhile give ear, and you shall hear,
A true and homely tale.
Ye friends at home, who seldom roam,
Much farther than the mill,
Be sure you’re wise, and mind your eyes,
Or let your guns lie still.
It happen’d where, as you shall hear,
A building was erected,
That to complete its breadth and height,
Some workmen were collected.