Oh! Englishmen, come drop a tear or two,
While I relate a thrilling tale of woe,
Of one whose age demanded all the care
That love which aged pilgrims ought to share.
This poor old man, whose limbs refused to bear
The weight of more than eighty years of care,
Was brought before a beak, worse than a Turk,
And sent to gaol because he could not work,
Weep, sons of Britain, mourn your sires’ disgrace!
Weep, English mothers! hug your rising race,