The Little Vagabond

Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold,

But the Ale-house is healthy & pleasant & warm;

Besides I can tell where I am used well,

Such usage in heaven will never do well.

But if at the Church they would give us some Ale,

And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,

We'd sing and we'd pray all the live-long day,

Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.

Then the Parson might preach, & drink, & sing,

And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring;

And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church,

Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.

And God, like a father rejoicing to see

His children as pleasant and happy as he,

Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the Barrel,

But kiss him, & give him both drink and apparel.