Page:Wee wee songs for our little pets.djvu/132

 Poor Mr. Smith, the clever man, That used to tend the mill.

Last spring, his wife and little ones Were very sick, you know; When they recovered, he was seized, And died a week ago.

This very morning, Mrs. Smith Came here to ask relief; Poor woman! she looked pale and thin, And overwhelmed with grief.

"Dear madam, I am grieved to come And trouble you," she said; "But new afflictions seem to fall In torrents on my head.

"Some time before my husband died, We owed a quarter's rent, He laid it up, and would, no doubt,  Have paid it—every cent.

"But when our earnings all were stopp'd, And we so long were ill, I was obliged to take it all,  To pay the doctor's bill.