I Hate That Andrew Jones; He'll Breed His Children Up To Waste And Pillage. I Wish The Press-Gang Or The Drum With Its Tantara Sound Would Come, And Sweep Him From The Village! I Said Not This, Because He Loves Through The Long Day To Swear And Tipple; But For The Poor Dear Sake Of One To Whom A Foul Deed He Had Done, A Friendless Man, A Travelling Cripple! For This Poor Crawling Helpless Wretch, Some Horseman Who Was Passing By, A Penny On The Ground Had Thrown; But The Poor Cripple Was Alone And Could Not Stoop, No Help Was Nigh. Inch-Thick The Dust Lay On The Ground For It Had Long Been Droughty Weather; So With His Staff The Cripple Wrought Among The Dust Till He Had Brought The Half-Pennies Together. It Chanced That Andrew Passed That Way Just At The Time; And There He Found The Cripple In The Mid-Day Heat Standing Alone, And At His Feet He Saw The Penny On The Ground. He Stopped And Took The Penny Up: And When The Cripple Nearer Drew, Quoth Andrew, "Under Half-A-Crown, What A Man Finds Is All His Own, And So, My Friend, Good-Day To You." And 'Hence' I Said, That Andrew'S Boys Will All Be Trained To Waste And Pillage; And Wished The Press-Gang, Or The Drum With Its Tantara Sound, Would Come And Sweep Him From The Village.