The Humorous Poetry of the English Language…
“ You're not the poorest man in Lille.My heart is weary, my peace is gone, How shall I e'er my woes reveal? I have no money, I lie in pawn, A stranger in the town of Lille. IV. Say, shall I to yon Flemish church, And at a Popish altar kneel? O do not leave me in the lurch,— I'll cry ye patron-saints of Lille!Ye virgins dressed in satin hoops, Ye martyrs slain for mortal weal, Look kindly down! before you stoops The miserablest man in Lille.And lo! as I beheld with awe A pictured saint (I swear 'tis real) It smiled, and turned to grandmamma!— It did! and I had hope in Lille! ”
