Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (3rd ed.).djvu/156



thou art off, old Forty-four,
 * With all thy good and ill attending,

To join thy kindred gone before,
 * And add to the eternal blending.

What varied scenes of grief and joy
 * Hast thou, old year, been at the making;

What myriads sent to sleep, old boy,
 * To 'bide the last trump's awful waking?

What thousands thou hast usher'd in
 * To this sad world of guilt and sorrow;

But whatsoe'er thy faults have been,
 * Thy reign, old boy, is o'er to-morrow.

So, part we friends, for thou hast dried
 * The tear from many a weeping eye;

And thy successor, when he's tried,
 * May perhaps be worse—and so, good bye!

Significant,—Anybody will lend you an umbrella when it doesn’t rain,

do things well, who never try; Right clever folks, those standers-by!