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The Lawyer lives under the hill,
Gaffer Gray,
Warmly fenc'd both in back and in front,
“He'll faſten the locks,
“And will threaten the ſtocks,
“Should be ever more find me in want,
“Well-a-day!” etc.
The 'Squire has good beef and brown ale,
Gaffer Gray,
And the ſeaſon will welcome you there;
“The fat beef and his beer,
“And his merry New Year,
“Are all for the fluſh and the fair,
“Well-a-day!” etc
My keg is but low, I confeſs,
Gaffer Gray,
What then, while it laſts man, we'll live;
“The poor man alone,
“When he hears the poor moan,
“Of his morſel a morſel will give,
“Well-a-day!” etc.
THE PARADOX
WE bipeds made up of frail clay,
Alas! we're the children of ſorrow,
And though briſk and merry to-day,
We all may be wretched to morrow.
For ſunſhine's ſucceeded by ſorrow,
Then fearful of life's ſtormy weather,
Leſt pleaſure ſhould only bring pain,
Let us all be unhappy together.
I grant, the beſt bleſſings we know,
Is a friend, for true friendſhip's a treaſure,
