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.