Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Sportsman's Distress

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The Sportsman's Distress.
I've lost my friend, my dog, and wife,
 Saved only horse and purse;
Yet whn I think on human life,
 Thank heaven it is no worse.

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My friend was sickly, poor, and old,
 Was peevish, blind, and crippled;
My wife was ugly and a scold,—
 I rather think she tippled.

My dog was faithful, fond, and true,
 In sporting gave me pleasure;
I shouldn't care for t'other two,
 If I had saved this treasure.

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