Lost it this morning.
No, I have not a card,
Nor can I pay you, guard—
Truly my lot is hard,
This is the reason,
Now I recall to mind
Changing my clothes, I find
I left them all behind,—
Money, cards, 'season.'"
Lost it this morning.
No, I have not a card,
Nor can I pay you, guard—
Truly my lot is hard,
This is the reason,
Now I recall to mind
Changing my clothes, I find
I left them all behind,—
Money, cards, 'season.'"