But ther's mony a honest heart throbs,
Tho' it throbs under rags an' i' pains,
'At wod'nt disgrace one o'th' nobs,
'At booasts better blooid in his veins.
See that child thear! 'at's working away,
An' sweepin that crossin i'th' street:
He's been thear iver sin it coom day,
An' yo'll find him thear far into th' neet.
See what hundreds goa thowtlessly by,
An' ne'er think o' that child wi' his broom!