“Good? I should say that he was good,
A thorough kind-hearted brick—
Poor fellow! before very long though,
He himself fell sorely sick.
My wife did all she could, kind soul,
And nursed him night and day;
But with me and the children poorly,
She’d a hardish part to play.
“Poor Jim didn’t get no better,
And it seems made up his mind,
As how he must die at the Fields, sir,
And all he’d to leave behind
Would ’queath to my missus, who always
Had been his kindest friend—
’Twasn’t much, for things were dear then,
And his coin had come to an end.
“Well! all there was he made over,
Then poor Jim was laid to rest—
We got his watch and knicknacks,
But what the wife liked best
Was a couple of Dorking hens, sir,
And a fine young Spanish cock;
Quite right, sir, them’s the feathers,
That I fear give you a shock.
“The missus was fond of poultry,
And was pleased with what we’d got;
But hunger is hard to bear, sir,
So the birds came to the pot.
Our little gals lay a dying,
And food we all must have,
So one by one the fowls were killed,
But our bairns we could not save.
“The young cock’s turn came last, but
To kill him we all were loth;
But Billy and me in the fever lay,
So the wife made us some broth.
And now was the strangest thing, for when
That bird was drawn, his crop
Contained—well, guess?—I assure you,
My wife was fit to drop.
“A diamond? Yes! a brilliant,
Without a fault or flaw,
As good a gem, for its size, you know,
As ever merchant saw.
Four hundred pounds we sold it for,
And we bought shares in a claim
That doubled soon the sum we had:
Don’t that bird deserve some fame?
“Thank God, the fever left us,
Little Billy was first to mend;
And after a while I got stronger,
And could to work attend.
But we’d all had enough of the Fields, sir,
And longed to come back home;
To settle down in the dear old place,
Nor want again to roam.
“I look like a Dutchman, do I?
Well! all that we have we owe
To that young bird, I reckon;
And my gratitude I shall show.
I shall sport his blue-black plumes then,
For it does not oft betide,
When killing a fowl to cook, you find
A plum in his inside.”
C. F. Overton.
