SONGS OF THE MENDICANTS.
No. 2.—THE SONG OF THE DISTRESSED WEAVER.
Wearily spins the web of life;
Dismally London's streets I tread:
I've got at home a consumptive wife,
And two small children lying dead.
(Aside.) I must indulge a quiet grin—
I shall feel better when I've laughed;
My wife's at home consuming gin,
While the children sleep with an opium draught.