Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear
Ah, woe is me, my mother dear! A man of strife ye've born me: For saircontention I maunbear; They hate, revile, and scorn me. I ne'er could lend on billorband, That five per cent. might blest me; And borrowing, on the titherhand, The deila anewadtrust me. Yet I, a coin-denied wight, By Fortune quite discarded;