Wooden Leg
Misfortune sometimes is a prize,
And is a blessing in disguise;
A man with a stout wooden leg,
Through town and country he can beg.
And the people in the city,
On poor man they do take pity;
He points them to his timber leg
And tells them of his poor wife, Meg.
And if a dog tries him to bite,
With his stiff leg he doth him smite,
Or sometimes he will let him dig
His teeth into the wooden leg.
Then never more will dog delight
This poor cripple man for to bite;
Rheumatic pains they never twig,
Nor corns annoy foot of leg.
So cripple if he’s man of sense,
Finds for ills some recompense;
And though he cannot dance a jig,
He merry moves on wooden leg.
And when he only has one foot,
He needs to brush only one boot;
Through world he does jolly peg,
So cheerful with his wooden leg.
In mud or water he can stand
With his foot on the firm dry land,
For wet he doth not care a fig,
It never hurts his wooden leg.
No aches he has but on the toes
Of one foot, and but one gets froze;
He has many a jolly rig,
And oft enjoys his wooden leg.