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Charles Lamb - A Ballad
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In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold;
In a wretched workhouse Age`s limbs are cold:
There they sit, the old men by a shivering fire,
Still close and closer cowering, warmth is their desire.

In a costly palace, when the brave gallants dine,
They have store of good venison, with old canary wine,
With singing and music to heighten the cheer;
Coarse bits, with grudging, are the pauper`s best fare.

In a costly palace Youth is still carest
By a train of attendants which laugh at my young Lord`s jest;
In a wretched workhouse the contrary prevails:
Does Age begin to prattle?—no man heark`neth to his tales.

In a costly palace if the child with a pin
Do but chance to prick a finger, straight the doctor is called in;
In a wretched workhouse men are left to perish
For want of proper cordials, which their old age might cherish.

In a costly palace Youth enjoys his lust;
In a wretched workhouse Age, in corners thrust,
Think upon the former days, when he was well to do,
Had children to stand by him, both friends and kinsmen too.

In a costly palace Youth his temples hides
With a new devised peruke that reaches to his sides;
In a wretched workhouse Age`s crown is bare,
With a few thin locks just to fence out the cold air.

In peace, as in war, `tis our young gallants` pride,
To walk, each one i` the streets, with a rapier by his side,
That none to do them injury may have pretence;
Wretched Age, in poverty, must brook offence.
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