The folks on the pavement were standing se thick,
So I turn’d myself round, and lean’d over my stick,
And heard a poor beggar boy sing,
And heard a poor beggar boy sing.
He sung how that Nelson had lately been shot;
Oh! I verily thought I’d have died on the spot,
For father told I that lead, e’en boiling hot,
Wou’d ne’er take the life of this man,
Wou’d ne’er take the life of this man.
At length the boy prov’d, e’er he ended his song,