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Another woman would a sent the child to the 'Ouse; but that's always the way with me; I'm always actin' against my own interesses. 'You say that her parents went away and left her? asked the old man, knitting his brows. 'Her father did. Her mother, she died in this very 'ouse, an' she was buried from it. He gave her a respectable burial, I'll say that much for him.
For greedy landlords Seeing us pressed by hunger Did, in a more than frugal manner, In their infernal hovels, Poisoning instead of feeding, Steal from us our crowns. Car des hotes interesses, De la faim nous voyant presses, D'une facon plus que frugale, Dans une chaumiere infernale, En nous empoisonnant, Nous volaient nos ecus. O siecle different des temps de Lucullus!
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