In London Town, Part Two
As Mary Grace laid down to die
A tattered boy came passing by
With hair that made a bed for lice
And one long beard for catching mice
His shirt was torn about his chest
With trousers that remained at best
Not even fit to use as rags
Because they looked like burlap bags
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 brought him food to eat
He truly was a sorry sight
To live and die without a fight
The ones who cared were long since dead
The gentle ones who culture bred
To love the tiny orphan boy
And bless him with their boundless joy
And so the lad who came at last
To win the future from the past
Displayed the pampered, cheerful mood
That prospered more than any brood
But in the safety of this fold
The couple grew to be quite old
And thus the boy began to see
That what he knew was not to be
So when these two were laid to rest
Who symbolized the very best
The boy began to make his way
Before the sun began the day
He knew that wealth is upside-down
For those who cringe beneath the crown
The victims of a dreary 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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