Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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JOSH. |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
JOSH.
Poor old Josh is a miser
And scarce numbers ten,
But is yet vastly wiser
Than others though men;
He began with a shilling he found in the street
And supposes the world is now all at his feet,
And his serious life has no room for a smile
For the shilling has grown and is quite a grand pile;
Moses even is jealous
And envies his gold,
When he sees him so zealous
In sunshine and cold.
And scarce numbers ten,
But is yet vastly wiser
Than others though men;
He began with a shilling he found in the street
And supposes the world is now all at his feet,
And his serious life has no room for a smile
For the shilling has grown and is quite a grand pile;
Moses even is jealous
And envies his gold,
When he sees him so zealous
In sunshine and cold.
467
For old Josh loves his labour
And carries a broom,
And can tell a rich neighbour
In dreariest gloom;
While he is so polite to sweet ladies with bags
And to gentlemen passing with fidgety nags,
That he soon gets the coppers to add to his store
And keeps pegging away at his work making more:
Ah, you don't see him tossing
His money in play,
But he sticks to his crossing
And to pitches that pay.
And carries a broom,
And can tell a rich neighbour
In dreariest gloom;
While he is so polite to sweet ladies with bags
And to gentlemen passing with fidgety nags,
That he soon gets the coppers to add to his store
And keeps pegging away at his work making more:
Ah, you don't see him tossing
His money in play,
But he sticks to his crossing
And to pitches that pay.
Dear old Josh waxes bolder
The farther he dares,
And his brave little shoulder
Lifts ponderous cares;
There's a world of anxiety crammed in that head
Furrowed early with thought, which is coined into bread
And good clothing and stuff for his wonderful stock,
In the bank of the teapot or castaway sock;
While he terribly pinches
Himself with his load,
And proceeds but by inches
Along his small road.
The farther he dares,
And his brave little shoulder
Lifts ponderous cares;
There's a world of anxiety crammed in that head
Furrowed early with thought, which is coined into bread
And good clothing and stuff for his wonderful stock,
In the bank of the teapot or castaway sock;
While he terribly pinches
Himself with his load,
And proceeds but by inches
Along his small road.
Grave old Josh takes no pleasure
On shore or the Thames,
And he cannot find leisure
For larking or games;
On the Sunday he sleeps and believes it no sin,
And allows but one meal because nothing comes in;
In the straw of a packing case, shared with odd guests,
Like a dormouse coiled up he religiously rests;
Boys about him get prisoned
And never will rise,
He grows daily more wizened
And wealthy and wise.
On shore or the Thames,
And he cannot find leisure
For larking or games;
On the Sunday he sleeps and believes it no sin,
And allows but one meal because nothing comes in;
In the straw of a packing case, shared with odd guests,
Like a dormouse coiled up he religiously rests;
Boys about him get prisoned
And never will rise,
He grows daily more wizened
And wealthy and wise.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |