Select Poetry.
TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE. BY A MISERABLE WRETCH. Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! Through pathless realms of space 801 l on! What, though I'm in a sorry case ? What, though I cannot meet my bills ? What, though I suffer toothache's ills ? What, though 1 swallow countless pills ? Never you mind J Roll on J Roll on, thou ball, roll ou! Through seas of inky "ir Roll on j It's true I've got no shirts to wear;' It's true my butcher's bill is due ; It's true my prospects all look blue—*■ But don't let that unsettle you 1 Never you mind! Roll on! [lt rolls on."]
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/HBT18710513.2.12
Bibliographic details
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Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 17, Issue 1016, 13 May 1871, Page 3
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108Select Poetry. Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 17, Issue 1016, 13 May 1871, Page 3
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