Fit subject for my humble muse
Are ye, whom night and day I use,
My Stockings.
Soon as Aurora points the skies,
(Ere from my sluggard couch I rise,)
For you I raise my earliest cries,
My Stockings.
The live-long day, around my thigh
Ye cling: and seldom turn away;
With me ye trudge through wet and dry,