But Humphrey, sure thou never canst have known

  The comforts of a little home thine own:

  A home so snug, So chearful too as mine,

  'Twas always clean, and we could make it fine;

  For there King Charles's golden rules were seen,

  And there—God bless 'em both—the King and Queen.

  The pewter plates our garnish'd chimney grace

  So nicely scour'd, you might have seen your face;

  And over all, to frighten thieves, was hung

  Well clean'd, altho' but seldom us'd, my gun.

  Ah! that damn'd gun! I took it down one morn—

  A desperate deal of harm they did my corn!

  Our testy Squire too loved to save the breed,

  So covey upon covey eat my seed.

  I mark'd the mischievous rogues, and took my aim,

  I fir'd, they fell, and—up the keeper came.

  That cursed morning brought on my undoing,

  I went to prison and my farm to ruin.

  Poor Mary! for her grave the parish paid,

  No tomb-stone tells where her cold corpse is laid!

  My children—my dear boys—