Many A Time Your Father Gave Me Aid When I Was Down, And Now I'm Down Again: You Mustn't Take It Bad Or Be Dismayed Because I Say, Young Folk Should Help Old Men And 'Tis Their Duty To Do That: Amen! I Have No Cows, No Sheep, No Cloak, No Hat, For Those Who Used To Give Me Things Are Dead And My Luck Died With Them: Because Of That I Won't Pay You A Farthing, But, Instead, I'll Owe You Till The Dead Rise From The Dead. A Farthing! That's Not Much, But, All The Same, I Haven't Half A Farthing, For That Grand Big Idiot Called Fortune Rigged The Game And Gave Me Nothing, While She Filled The Hand Of Every Stingy Devil In The Land. You Weave, And I: You Shirts: I Weave Instead My Careful Verse, But You Get Paid At Times! The Only Rap I Get Is On My Head: But Should It Come Again That Men Like Rhymes And Pay For Them, I'll Pay You For Your Shirt.