Thomas Holcroft, “Gaffer Gray”

Ho! Why dost thou shiver and shake,
	Gaffer Gray?
And why doth thy nose look so blue?
	“’Tis the weather that’s cold;
	’Tis I’m grown very old,
And my doublet is not very new, 
	Well-a-day!'

Then line thy worn doublet with ale, 
	Gaffer Gray;
And warm thy old heart with a glass.
	“Nay but credit I’ve none;
	And my money’s all gone;
Then say how may that come to pass?
	Well-a-day!”

Hie away to the house on the brow, 
	Gaffer Gray;
And knock at the jolly priest’s door.
	“The priest often preaches
	Against worldly riches;
But ne’er gives a mite to the poor, 
	Well-a-day!”

The lawyer lives under the hill,
	Gaffer Gray:
Warmly fenced both in back and in front.
	“He will fasten his locks, 
	And will threaten the stocks,
Should he ever more find me in want,
	Well-a-day!”

The squire has fat beeves and brown ale,
	Gaffer Gray;
And the season will welcome you there.
	“His fat beeves and his beer, 
	And his merry new year,
Are all for the flush and the fair, 
	Well-a-day!”

My keg is but low I confess,
	Gaffer Gray;
What then? While it lasts, man, we’ll live.
	The poor man alone,
	When he hears the poor moan, 
Of his morsel a morsel will give, 
	Well-a-day!

Thomas Holcroft (1745-1809) - "Gaffer Gray" from The New Oxford Book of Eighteenth-Century Verse