Seven years I begged
For my old Master Wild,
He taught me to beg
When I was but a child.
And a begging, &c.
I begged for my master,
And got him store of pelf;
But now, Jove be praised!
I’m begging for myself.
And a begging, &c.
In a hollow tree
I live, and pay no rent;
Providence provides for me,
And I am well content.
And a begging, &c.
Of all the occupations,
A beggar’s life’s the best;
For whene’er he’s weary,
He’ll lay him down and rest.
And a begging, &c.
I fear no plots against me,
I live in open cell;
Then who would be a king
When beggars live so well?
And a begging we will go, we’ll go, we’ll go;
And a begging we will go!
THE END.
FOOTNOTES.
[24] This is the same tune as Fortune my foe.—See Popular Music of the Olden Time, p. 162.
[51] This word seems to be used here in the sense of the French verb mettre, to put, to place.
[61] The stall copies read ‘Gamble bold.’