And “sufficient for the day” is a fine text—Tom Smith;
But at your garden gate do you never scratch your pate,
When you think what’s in the cupboard for the next—Tom Smith?
The pot you know must boil; ’twould be better sure to toil,
And add by honest labour to your store—Tom Smith,
Than moon away your time, in philosophic rhyme,
Or sitting ’neath your shady sycamore—Tom Smith.
You bid me, as I pass, come and drain with you a glass,
But it cannot be of wine, or beer, or grog—Tom Smith.
It’s more like “Adam’s Ale,” I’m afraid, than “Bass’s Pale,”