The Purse I send to you, my friend,
Is empty, but if wishes warm
Could fill it, 'twould be brimming o'er
With handfuls of the golden charm.
The only wealth I have to give
Are words which may be worth a thought.
Be sure, as you would prosperous live,
While earning sixpence spend a groat:
Your purse will then grow slowly full,
A friend in need you'll always find,
And comforts, which can only flow
From plenty and a peaceful mind.