My old Arm Chair! The wear and tear
Thou hast endured for me,
Long ere this time deserved a rhyme
Expressly made to thee.
When I thee bought, thy varnished coat
And well proportioned frame
My house adorned, and no one scorned
Thee Rocking Chair to name.
But since that day, my bairns in play,
Have tumbled thee about,
Till thou appears well struck with years,
And truly nigh worn out.
Dear to my heart — I'm loth to part
With such a well tried friend;
Yet even repairs to old arm chairs
Must some time have an end.
I've patched thee oft; and cushions soft
Those patches somewhat screen;
Still, thy poor arms — reft of paint's charms
Are scarce fit to be seen.
The rockers, too, I did renew —
Will hardly yield a rocking.
But out of sight to cast thee quite
Would, to my mind, be shocking.
I therefore say: Thou here shalt stay
As long as I remain;
And no neglect I can detect
Shall cause thee to complain.
Farewell, Arm Chair! thou canst not fare
Much worse than I have done;
For, by my pen, from fellow men
Large share of scorn I've won.