With twenty pounds but three weeks since
From Paris forth did Titmarsh wheel,
I thought myself as rich a prince
As beggar poor I'm now at Lille.
Confiding in my ample means-
In troth, I was a happy chiel!
I passed the gate of Valenciennes.
I never thought to come by Lille.
I never thought my twenty pounds
Some rascal knave would dare to steal;
I gayly passed the Belgic bounds
At Quievrain, twenty miles from Lille.
To Antwerp town I hastened post,
And as I took my evening meal
I felt my pouch,-my purse was lost,
O Heaven! Why came I not by Lille?
I straightway called for ink and pen,
To grandmamma I made appeal;
Meanwhile a load of guineas ten
I borrowed from a friend so leal.
I got the cash from grandmamma
(Her gentle heart my woes could feel),
But where I went, and what I saw,
What matters? Here I am at Lille.
My heart is weary, my peace is gone,
How shall I e'er my woes reveal?
I have no cash, I lie in pawn,
A stranger in the town of Lille.