The Weavers

MANY a time your father gave me aid
When I was down, and now I'm down again :
You mustn't take it bad or be dismayed
Because I say, young folk should help old men
And 'tis their duty to do that :
Amen !


I have no cows, no sheep, no cloak, no hat,
For those who used to give me things are dead
Mad my luck dies with them : because of that
I won't pay you a farthing, but, instead,
I'll owe you till the dead rise from the dead.


A farthing ! that's not much, but, all the same,
I haven't half a farthing, for that grand
Big idiot called Fortune rigged the game
And gave me nothing, while she filled the hand
Of every stingy devil in the land.


You weave, and I : you shirts : I weave instead
My careful verse—but you get paid at times !
The only rap I get is on my head :
But should it come again that men like rhymes
And pay for them, I'll pay you for your shirt.