ORIGINAL POETRY.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume II, Issue 139, 24 February 1874, Page 2

ORIGINAL POETRY.

IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND. Here's a man who has got into trouble Very often since he was born, But who thinks each care is a fubble, That- grows larger the more you mourn. When he was working for wages, Rather than borrow he’d lend, Now he has to sing with the sages—- “ It’s never too late to mend.” CHORI'S. A coward will sing, I am ruin’d to-day With fate I’ll no longer contend ; But a man who is wise will laugh and say—- *’ it’s never 100 late to mend.” He was one of Fortune’s “ privates ;” She on him ne’er frowned or smiled, Till from his home he wandered, Then she said, “ You are not my child.” But still he’s struggling onward, All he doeth to good doth tend, For on the words no’s- always thinking—- “ It’s never too late to mend.” Chorus. He had friends —for he hail money (It ever has been the same), But one was true amongst many, So it exists in more than in name ; Friendship makes the poor man richer, By smiling, hoping, to the end ; For it speaks the words so kindly—- “ It’s never too late to mend?’ Poverty Bay, February 19,1874.