Dramatic Scenes :: :: University of Virginia Library

I travel by day, I travel by night,
In the blistering sun, in the drenching rain;
And my only pleasure, in dark or light,
Is to help the poor, in pain.

290

The Parish Magnificoes pay me—what?
Were it only the money, I would not roam,
But enjoy the little that I have got
By my own fireside, at home.

But hunger, and thirst, and pain, and woe
Entice me on; and they pay me well,
When I beat down the devil Disease, you know;
'Tis for that my old age I sell:

I give up my comfort, my crusty wine,
My slippers, my books, and my easy chair,
And go where the paupers starve and pine,
With help. But for this, I swear,

I would spit on the fat false bloated men
Who strut on the vestry floor,
And toss 'em their twenty pounds again,
That they squeeze from the parish poor.

Last night,—O God, what a night of cold,
With the wind and the stinging hail!
What a night for a lamb that had left the fold,
And had wandered, weak and pale!

Yet there she was,—on the midnight thrown
By the rascal that bars the gate,
And the lying relieving officer (known
For relieving—the parish rate!).

291

These knaves, they are high in their masters' books,
Have a sum upon which they draw
To keep up their credit; tho' each one looks
To be sure he's within the law.

But gentleness, kindness, love—that lend
To the gifts of the heart a grace,
They reach not the pauper that has no friend,
They suit not the guardian's place.

Their duty is known;—to keep down the rate,
And the poor within proper bounds,
And to pay (that he may not be too elate)
The Doctor with—Twenty pounds!