Volume 25 — SONGS OF THE MENDICANTS.

Wearily spins the web of life; Dismally London's streets I tread: I've got at home a consumptive wife, And two small children lying dead. (Aside.) I must indulge a quiet grin— I shall feel better when I've laughed; My wife's at home consuming gin, While the children sleep with an opium draught. If my wife and children you could see, I'm sure you'd help me, good Christians all; Believe my wretched tale, and on me In halfpence let your compassion fall. (Aside.) If my wife and children you wish to meet As soon as she's sober, you'll mayhap Find her in the adjoining street, With the well-drugg'd infants on her lap. A Weaver I've always been by trade, From the time when I was eight years old; But I've been unfit for labour made, By hunger, over-work, and cold. (Aside.) Yes, I am a Weaver, I'll stick to that; And my skill will often myself surprise, When I think what precious yarns I spin, And what wondrous webs I weave—of lies. To beg I'm forbidden by the Act; But Providence will your charity bless, If you'll purchase a small religious tract From a pious Weaver in distress. (Aside.) Hallo! how's this? I'm fairly caught; A religious tract, I think I said; I've left them at home, and by Jove, I've brought My stock of flash song-books out instead.