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Andrew Jones
(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

Andrew Jones

Poem By William Wordsworth

I hate that Andrew Jones; he'll breed
His children up to waste and pillage.
I wish the press-gang or the drum
With its tantara sound would come,
And sweep him from the village!

I said not this, because he loves
Through the long day to swear and tipple;
But for the poor dear sake of one
To whom a foul deed he had done,
A friendless man, a travelling cripple!

For this poor crawling helpless wretch,
Some horseman who was passing by,
A penny on the ground had thrown;
But the poor cripple was alone
And could not stoop--no help was nigh.

Inch-thick the dust lay on the ground
For it had long been droughty weather;
So with his staff the cripple wrought
Among the dust till he had brought
The half-pennies together.

It chanced that Andrew passed that way
Just at the time; and there he found
The cripple in the mid-day heat
Standing alone, and at his feet
He saw the penny on the ground.

He stopped and took the penny up:
And when the cripple nearer drew,
Quoth Andrew, "Under half-a-crown,
What a man finds is all his own,
And so, my Friend, good-day to you."

And 'hence' I said, that Andrew's boys
Will all be trained to waste and pillage;
And wished the press-gang, or the drum
With its tantara sound, would come
And sweep him from the village.

User Rating: 2,9 / 5 ( 62 votes ) 6

Comments (6)

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A bit of humour, empathy, and a great unique style and the result is this lovely piece.
It chanced that Andrew passed that way Just at the time; and there he found The cripple in the mid-day heat Standing alone, and at his feet He saw the penny on the ground The great wordsworth whom we studied in the literature classess. tony
This is the kind of perverse pleasure some get while snatching things away from helpless. A painful scenario painted so skillfully with empathy and anger justified.
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