48
THE RAGGED STOCKING.
Do you see this ragged stocking, Here a rent and there a hole?Each thread of this little stocking Is woven around my soul.
Do you wish to hear my story? Excuse me, the tears will start,For the sight of this ragged stocking Stirs the fountains of my heart.
You say that my home is happy; To me 'tis earth's fairest place,But its sunshine, peace and gladness Back to this stocking I trace.
I was once a wretched drunkard; Ah! you start and say not so;But the dreadful depths I've sounded, And I speak of what I know.
I was wild and very reckless When I stood on manhood's brink,And, joining with pleasure-seekers Learned to revel and drink.
Strong drink is a raging demon, In his hands are shame and woe;He mocketh the strength of the mighty And bringeth the strong man low.