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He swallows the clothes, health, and comfort, I think,
Nay, the lives of his family down with his drink.
But sleeping and snoring with feverish head,
Was Lapstone the cobler, there down in the shade;
The shade was quite cool, and his sleep was quite sound,
The next day all his limbs with rheumatics were bound.
Three months lay groaning upon a sick bed,
Nor could stir hand or foot, or lift up his dull head;
His family starve, or the workhouse may find,
For no benefit-club drinking Sam ever join'd.
But tippling at length ⟨over⟩ each one prevail'd,
Until drowsy & stupid their poor senses fail'd;
And tho' dreaming of drinking, they doz'd on the seat,
Till the breeze of the evening abated the heat.
Twas a good opportunity—sin begets sin,
For a traveller who saw what a state they were in
Saw a hole in John's pocket too, whence there was shown
A good new canvas bag, which he took for his own.
Now in this was his rent, forty shillings & more,
'Twas the price of his wife's cow he sold just before:
So he paid, dearly paid, for his mug of good ale,
With distress from his landlord, and 6 months in jail.
But when he awake he began t'enquire
