Classic Poem

To me as much pleasure
These Poems consign
As finds thaTold Miser
In hoarding his Coin.

For Money's not good, Sir,
But as it is spent;
Be careful to use, then,
The Talent that's lent.

In feeding the Hung'ry,
And cloathing the Poor;
Hush, Poet, cries Spendthrift,
Adone, say no more.

For if once I do come
To my old Dady's Bags,
I'll keep my fine Ladies,
Race Horses and Nags.

I'll lay too great Bets,
When my Horses do race;
When Money is wanting,
I'll try for a Place.

A Place in the Cabinet,
Of Counsel so fine;
So I'll handle their Money;
And take it for mine,

A Parliament Man
Then I'll strive for to be;
And so then from Bailiffs,
And Goals I'm set free.

So I'll live fine and gay,
And spend Gold as before;
Make my Servants feed Dogs,
And let God feed the Poor.

God does feed the Poor, Sir;
But be not so bold,
And I'll tell you a Truth,
That the Saviour once told.

A rich Man there was,
Who was cloath'd fine and gay;
And far'd too, sumptuously,
We find, every Day.

A poor Man was laid
At his Gate, and not well;
Desiring the Crumbs
From his Table that fell.

The Dogs came and licked
His Sores too, we find,
They show'd more compass'on
Than their Master unkind.

This poor Man he dyed,
Was to Heaven convey'd;
Where in Abraham's Bosom
He safely was laid.

This rich Man too dyed;
But, how awful to tell!
He lift up his Eyes
In the Torments of Hell.

It was then for Water
To Abraham he cry'd;
To quench his hot Tongue,
But his Suit was deny'd.

Then seek for true Riches,
Which Jesus does give;
Do good to the Poor,
By Faith on Christ live.