'When you reach home,' he kindly said;
'Like his friend Make-peace, I'll be paid.'
Thus I set off, as was my plan,
Guis'd as a trudging, trav'lling man,
And in his journey going on
To seek his fate in London town.
My needfuls in an oil-cloth sack,
Were buckled to my wretched back,
And late at night when the full moon
In an unclouded brightness shone,