To day, though you’re alive and well,
Worth many a thousand pound,
To-morrow dead, and cold as clay,
Your corpse lies under ground.
God bless the master of this house,
Mistress and children dear;
Joyful may their Christmas be,
And happy their New-Year.
That singular old ballad of Dives and Lazarus, in which occur these stanzas:—
As it fell out upon a day,
Poor Lazarus sickened and died;
There came two angels out of heaven
His soul therein to guide.
“Rise up, rise up, brother Lazarus,
Thine heavenly guides are we;
Thy place it is provided in heaven,
To sit on an angel’s knee.”
As it fell out upon a day,
Rich Dives sickened and died;
There came two serpents out of hell
His soul therein to guide.
“Rise up, rise up, brother Dives,
Thine evil; guides are we;
Thy place it is provided in hell,
To sit on a serpent’s knee!”
One has this home-thrusting stanza:
So proud and lofty do some people grow,
Dressing themselves like players in a show;
They patch and paint, and dress like idle stuff,
As if God had not made them good enough.
The well-known Twelve Joys: