Though some, alas, are so precise,
And God’s rich blessings do despise,
Others may need your friendly care,
And will your counsel gladly hear.
If your advice when managed well,
Perchance might save some soul from Hell;
Oh think of this,—and if you’re able,
You may stand still behind the table.
If I should go that way once more,
And find the people as before;
They must have either chain or cable,
If they keep me behind the table.
THE LODGER IN LIVERPOOL;
OR,
THE MASON IN WINTER NIPT BY THE FROST.
While a card party were enjoying themselves in an adjoining room.
While sad I sit, oft musing over
Happy days for ever fled;
A lonely lodger in a corner,
Like some hermit in his shed.
All around seems blithe and merry;
My light’s dim, and harp’s unstrung,
While memory turns to yonder valley,
On whose flowery banks I’ve sung.