University of Virginia Library

Poor Tommy! poor Tommy! aw, Tommy was ragged,
And Tommy was shook, and Tommy was dragged,
And cast into outer darkness; there
Shall be weepin' and gnashin' of teeth; and I'll swear
If the preacher didn' get up, and thumbed
The Bible there; and hemmed and hummed,
And them very words, or very lek them—
And—this is the way the Lord'd correck them,
He said—this unfortnit young pessin,
No doubt, he said, it was very disthressin';
But here he was! a figger-head—
Figger, I mean—what's this he said?
A lively figger, he said, of them
That's called—but—chosen? No! He came,
Like many others, bid to the weddin';
But hed he the garment? No, he hedn'?
And put to the door, and black in the face,
And very nearly losin' his place.
But Cain thought better of it, for all he grumbled;
And he said he thought the lad was humbled—
And that would do. But, whether or not,
A servant like Tommy couldn' be got
Every day, so he stayed; but he wasn'
Suffered to rub a bit of rosin
On that viol again. And indeed it was bruk
That night in the row, and had to be tuk
Down to Ramsey for repairs,
And if it ever came back who knows and who cares?
Anyway Tommy got over it clever,
And worked the fiddle the same as ever.