A Thousand a Year

A Thousand a Year

Robin Ruff.
If I had but a thousand a year, Gaffer Green—
If I had but a thousand a year,
What a man would I be, and what sights would I see,
If I had but a thousand a year.

Gaffer Green.
The best wish you could have, take my word, Robin Ruff,
Would scarce find you, in bread or in beer;
But be honest and true, say what would you do,
If you had but a thousand a year.

Robin Ruff.
I'd do—I scarcely know what, Gaffer Green,
I'd go—faith, I scarcely know where;
I'd scatter the chink, and leave others to think,
If I had but a thousand a year.

Gaffer Green.
But when you are aged and gray, Robin Ruff,
And the day of your death it draws near,
Say, what with your pains, would you do with your gains
If you then had a thousand a year?

Robin Ruff.
I scarcely can tell what you mean, Gaffer Green,
For your questions are always so queer;
But as other folks die, I suppose so must I,—
Gaffer Green.
What! and give up your thousand a year?

There's a place that is better than this, Robin Ruff,—
And I hope in my heart you'll go there,—
Where the poor man's as great though he hath no estate,
Ay, as if he'd a thousand a year.