Who stroked my head, and said “Good lad,”

And gave me sixpence, “all he had;”

But at the stall the coin was bad?

My Godfather.

Who, gratis, shared my social glass,

But when misfortune came to pass,

Referr’d me to the pump? Alas!

My Friend.

Through all this weary world, in brief,

Who ever sympathised with grief,