THE MARTYRDOM OF ST. PAUL'S.
Oh, Charity! celestial dame!—I cannot call thee maid,
While ev'ry year thy children clear make such a grand parade.
Ah! 'tis a glorious sight to see thy little pauper brats
Parade the streets of Babylon like demi-drowned rats.
Before the sun's begun to run, they're startled from their nest,
And by their anxious mothers in the parish fin'ry dressed;
And how those mothers' hearts must leap with gratitude to see
Their offspring all so nicely clothed in that smart livery!
The girls all clad in worsted gowns, mob caps, and aprons white,