University of Virginia Library

LITTLE PETER THE PORTER.

DE PERTHES.

O, I am Little Peter,
Of faubourg La Pucelle;
A carrier of water,
And messenger, as well;
To gain an honest living
I 've got a clever head;
I seldom fill my pocket,
But then I get my bread!
I have no land nor servants;
All equipage I lack;
These legs, they are my horses;
My funds are on my back.
I take the good that's going,
Quite certain to be fed;
God wills us all a living,
And so I get my bread!
Before some stately building
I place my little stand;
No Swiss you need to parley,
The master is at hand.
Up early in the morning,
And late at night to bed,
I call the day a good one
In which I get my bread!
There goes a man of millions,
But what is that to me?
Who knows but Little Peter
Is happier than he?
The rich man has his troubles,
I often hear it said;
He can but eat his mutton,
And I—I get my bread!
I 've heard my worthy uncle,
Before his sad decease,
Declare no man is wretched
Whose stomach is at peace;
And should these fine days vanish,
And dark ones come instead,
The neighbors love poor Peter,
And I shall get my bread!