COMIC PIECES. 2-13 



" Hold, hold!" he cried, " you're FAR away ! 



I am but seventy-nine this day, 



And think, whatever others fear, 



I still may reach my hundredth year !" 



Said Truth, "Now make me your confessor ! 

 Pray who do you keep your riches for ?" 

 " Who fur!" cried Scrape-all, "for MYSELF! 

 And when at length I die FIVE SCORE, 

 Or thereabouts, say ten years more, 

 My wealth, I do design, shall be 

 Placed in my COFFIN close by me." 



"Nay," auswer'd Truth, ' when you are dead, 

 Authority you'll find is fled ; 

 Some-one, no doubt, will still contrive 

 To keep your slumbering gold alive. 

 Make, make your will ; howe'er it grieve, 

 You must your ALL to some one leave !'' 



" "What ! make my will ! my all bestow 

 On some one else ? No ! neighour, no ! 

 I'll be, whilst these my hands can hold, 

 The only keeper of my gold ; 

 From night to morn, from morn to night, 

 I'll keep it close, and hold it tight!" 



" You rightly speak, you are no more 



Than keeper to your golden store, 



But when you die, as die you must, 



To whom will you bequeath your trust ?" 



" To NO ONE !" Scrape-all stern replied ; 

 ''The WHOLE, I'll in my coffin hide! 

 I who have scraped for fifty years, 

 With ceaseless toil and hourly fears, 

 Shall I give ALL away, at LAST ? 

 No ! neighbour, NO ! /'// hold it fast /" 



" Strive how you will, your wealth to save, 

 You cannot hold it in the grave! 

 Although, old man, it rend your heart, 

 Your God and you at length must part !" 



Said Scrape-all, sorrowful and slow, 

 ' Well, then ! come thirty years or so, 



M 2' 



