Page:Northern ditty, or, The citizen outwitted by a country damsel.pdf/8



Say what thing that call'd light.

that I can ne'er enjoy?

What is the bieſſings of the ſight?

O tell, tell your poor blind boy.

You talk of wondrous things you ſee,

you ſay the fun ſhines bright,

I feel it warm, but how can I

diſcern the day from night!

My day and night, myſelf I make,

whene'er I walk or play,

And could I always keep awake,

it would be always day.

With heavy ſighs I often hear,

you mourn my helpleſs woe,

But ſure with patience I muſt bear,

a loſs I ne'er can know.

Although alas! I've loſt my ſight,

I have a gift in ſtore,

For here and there I get a mite,

and I deſire no more.

I muſt not beg, I will not ſteal,

and age darkneſs is my ſorrow:

But I will truſt to Providence,

and of good Chriſtians borrow.

Then let not what I cannot have,

my peace of mind deſtroy,

Whilst thus I ſing, I am a King,

although a poor Blind Boy.