Poem 36: THE LITTLE VAGABOND
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| | Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold; | |
| | But the Alehouse is healthy, and pleasant, and warm. | |
| | Besides, I can tell where I am used well; | |
| | Such usage in heaven will never do well. | |
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| | But, if at the Church they would give us some ale, | |
| | And a pleasant fire our souls to regale, | |
| | We'd sing and we'd pray all the livelong day, | |
| | Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray. | |
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| | Then the Parson might preach, and drink, and sing, | |
| | And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring; | |
| | And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at church, | |
| | Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch. | |
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| | And God, like a father, rejoicing to see | |
| | His children as pleasant and happy as He, | |
| | Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel, | |
| | But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel. | |
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