In London Town Pt Five
As Mary Grace laid down to die
A tattered boy came passing by
With hair that made a bed for lice
And two strong hands for catching mice
His shirt was torn about his chest
With trousers ripped and rendered best
As nothing more than you might poke
Beyond a broom with chimney smoke
But though the boy who made you laugh
Was now reduced by more than half
He still recalled his prison past
When food was old but served at last
He had no shoes about his feet
And no one gave him bread to eat
He truly was a sorry sight
To live and die without a fight
The ones who cared for him were dead
The gentle souls who culture bred
To love the scrawny orphan boy
And bring him home with boundless joy
And so the lad who came at last
To win the future from the past
Displayed a proper, pampered mood
That served him more than attitude
But in the safety of this fold
The kindly ones were soon quite old
And thus the boy began to see
That what he had was not to be
So when the two were laid to rest
Who gave the boy their very best
The lad began to make his way
Before the sunlight hit the day
He knew that wealth is upside-down
For those who live beneath the crown
The ones who labor for a song
Where time is short and days are long
But though his life was fast and free
And many passed his company
He did not have the means of late
To pay the tax on his estate
And so he vowed to play the horse
That some allowed might stay the course
And save him from a world of pain
Where some indulge and some refrain
But through it all, he blessed the face
That still belonged to Mary Grace
For Oliver, no bitter blow
Could thus reduce, a brighter glow.
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