His Face Wor Varry Thin An Pale, His Een Wor Strangely Breet; His Old Rags Flapt I'Th' Wintry Gale, An Shooless Wor His Feet. His Teeth They Chattered In His Heead, His Hands Had Lost Ther Use, He Humbly Begg'D A Bite O' Breead, But Nobbut Gate Abuse. A Curse Wor Tremblin On His Tongue, But With A Mad Despair, He Curbed It Wi' An Effort Strong, An Changed It For A Prayer. "Oh, God!" He Cried, "Spare, - Spare Aw Pray! Have Mercy An Forgive; Befooar Too Lat, Show Me Some Way My Wife An Bairns Can Live!" "Aw Read I'Th' Papers Ivvery Day, Ov Hundreds, - Thaasands Spent For Shot An Shell, An Things To Swell This Nation'S Armament. Into Fowk'S Hearts, Oh, God! Instil A Love Ov Peace, An Then, Maybe We'St Have Some Better Times, An Men Can Help Thersen. Aw Nobbut Want A Chonce To Live, One Cannot Wish For Less; Wars Fill This World Wi' Misery, - Peace Gives Us Happiness. If Monarchs Dooant Get Quite As Mich, Ther Joys Need Not Decrease; - Pray Think O'Th' Poor As Weel As Th' Rich; - We've But One Soul Apiece."