By A Miserable Wretch

Roll on, thou ball, roll on! Through pathless realms of Space Roll on! What though I'm in a sorry case? What though I cannot meet my bills? What though I suffer toothache's ills? What though I swallow countless pills? Never you mind! Roll on!

Roll on, thou ball, roll on! Through seas of inky air Roll on! It's true I have no shirts to wear;

It's true my butcher's bill is due; It's true my prospects all look blue-- But don't let that unsettle you: Never you mind! Roll on! [It rolls on.]