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.