Oh, if I were a bold young man
Straight as an arrow,
I'd store up no virtue
For Heaven's distant plain,
I'd live at ease as I did please
And sin once again.



APPLES AND WATER.

Dust in a cloud, blinding weather,
Drums that rattle and roar!
A mother and daughter stood together
Beside their cottage door.

"Mother, the heavens are bright like brass,
The dust is shaken high,
With labouring breath the soldiers pass,
Their lips are cracked and dry."

"Mother, I'll throw them apples down,
I'll bring them pails of water."
The mother turned with an angry frown
Holding back her daughter.

"But mother, see, they faint with thirst,
They march away to die,"
"Ah, sweet, had I but known at first
Their throats are always dry."