Читать книгу Random Rhymes and Rambles - Bill o'th' Hoylus End - Страница 19

Sweet lady, ’tis no troubadour,

   That sings so sweetly at your door,

To tell you of the joys in store,

         So grand and gay;

But one that sings remember th’ poor,

         ’Tis Christmas Day.

Within some gloomy walls to-day

   Just cheer the looks of hoary gray,

And try to smooth their rugged way

         With cheerful glow;

And cheer the widow’s heart, I pray,

         Crushed down with woe.

O make the weary spent-up glad,

   And cheer the orphan lass and lad;

Make frailty’s heart, so long, long sad,

         Your kindness feel;

And make old crazy-bones stark mad

         To dance a reel.

Then peace and plenty be your lot,

And may your deed ne’er be forgot,

That helps the widow in her cot,

         From of your store;

Nor creed nor seed should matter not,

         The poor are poor.