Classic Poem

the cheerful fire is blazing bright
& cast[s] a ruddy glare
on beams & rafters all in sight
& on the sanded floor

the scoured pewter on the shelf
glitters like silver pure
& all the ware of stony delf
doth like to Gold allure

and where this fire so magical
doth spread its light around
sure many scenes most magical
are acted on that ground

about that oaken table
in the middle of the floor
are sat those who are able
to play one card or more

and now behold the stakes are set
now watch the anxious faces
of all who have laid down a bet
scarce can they keep their places

but see the teller holds the card
above the silent crowd
look at his meagre visage hard
& list' his accents loud

he says the card is number one
look at that fellow there
I think he has his buisness done
Behold his ghastly stare

now he has drawn his sword
and plunged it in his side
look at his dying struggle
while rushes forth the tide

of red & streaming blood
the current of his life
pouring a crimson flood
while all within the strife

of racking pain of body
& torturing pain of mind
doth rend his heart in peices
& will no freind mos[t] kind

swet
& cheer his dying hour
promise to aid his orphans dear
with all within his power

no there they'll alway let him lay
& pass unheeding by
unless the[y] find him in their way
when theyll kick him all awry

or tearing up a flag
in the neatly sanded floor
theyll throw him in & leave him there
& think of him no more

& now I've done my verses
you may read them if you choose
or throw them in the fire
as Ive nought to gain or lose