Thomas And The Beggar

Come, Thomas come, your Mother called, She saw you in the Street, And of that Beggar, blind and bald She watch’d you trip the Feet.

His little Dog, with Jaws agape, An angry Protest raised: But all too late, his Master’s Shape The Pavement’s Edge had grazed.

Swift running came Policeman Joe And, threat’ning, spoke of Jail: For those who Others overthrow May deep in Dungeons wail.