A cruel landlord the next day, Turn'd her and children out of door, Where in a field all night they lay; This griev'd the widow's heart full sore. Poor soul, she was in sad distress. Full seven children at her feet, With hunger, cold and comfortless, And not one bit of bread to eat. Her children cry'd to her alone; "O, give us food, mother," they said; 'Twould have broke a heart of stone, To hear the piteous moan they made. With weeping tears she did reply, "My heart is overwhelm'd with grief; To your rich uncle we will hye, And see if he will yield relief. "He told your father thus in love, Before this world he bid adieu, That he in tenderness would prove A brother and a father too." With cheerfulness they did repair, Unto their uncle's house that night, And they no sooner were come there, But all their hopes were blasted quite. As soon as he did them behold, He said to her, "What make you here? Begone, or else the whipping post, Shall surely happen to your share." He threatened her with this abuse, Likewise with greater villany, He vow'd his dog he would let loose, If that she did his patience try. In wrath he spurn'd them from his door, Saying they should not there abide; Her children they were frighten'd sore, She likewise wrung her hands and cry'd. "O here we will not tarry long, Although we are in deep distress; Dear brother, pray now do not wrong The widow and the fatherless." Tears from their eyes in showers did flow, For there they see they might not stay; Their hearts were fill'd with grief and woe, As from his house they took their way. The mother was with grief opprest, The children in a woful plight; "We have no home nor place of rest, Where shall we lay our heads this night?" As she did wander on the way, Alas! her very heart did bleed; "Good Lord, raise me some friend, I pray, To help us in this time of need." Her prayer was heard to heaven high, For she no sooner this had said, But a young lady riding by, Did hear the piteous moan she made. And call'd her to her coach with speed, Giving her ten good guineas there, In order for her present need, And bid her to her house repair. "A farm of twenty pounds a year, I do declare I have in store, And I will give thee title clear, To you and yours for evermore." The lady bid her cease to mourn, "For ever happy may you be;" Ten thousand thanks she did return For this her generosity. No tongue is able to express How joy and comforts did increase, For now the farm they do possess, And live in plenty, joy, and peace. This brother of malicious spite, Who would not pity her poor case, All that he had was blasted quite Within a very little space.