PAY THE PRINTER.
The wind around my cottage roared ; The sleety rain against the windows poured. Within, the fire shed round a genial heat, And cosily I warmed my slippered feet. My easy chair, my soft oppossum rug ; My singing kettle, and my whiskey jug ; My timber pipe filled with the fragrant weed, Made me to feel that I was snug indeed. I took the paper up, and as I read Its useful columns, to myself I said—- “ How jolly glad I am, I’m not a printer, To work on nights like these all through the winter And, by-the-by, I’m quite ashamed to say, My paper is not paid for, I will pay In future in advance ; nor be a miser To him who works by night to make me wiser.
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Bibliographic details
Patea Mail, Volume 1, Issue 17, 9 June 1875, Page 3
Word Count
131PAY THE PRINTER. Patea Mail, Volume 1, Issue 17, 9 June 1875, Page 3
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