a nonanswer—it is no answer at all—to almost any other

A bag for his oatmeal, Another for his salt; And a pair of crutches, To show that he can halt. And a begging, &c..

A bag for his wheat, Another for his rye; A little bottle by his side, To drink when he's a-dry. And a begging, &c.

Seven years I begged For my old Master Wild, He taught me to beg When I was but a child. And a begging, &c.

I begged for my master, And got him store of pelf; But now, Jove be praised! I'm begging for myself. And a begging, &c.

In a hollow tree I live, and pay no rent; Providence provides for me, And I am well content. And a begging, &c.

Of all the occupations, A beggar's life's the best; For whene'er he's weary, He'll lay him down and rest. And a begging, &c.

I fear no plots against me, I live in open cell; Then who would be a king When beggars live so well? And a begging we will go, we'll go, we'll go; And a begging we will go!

(1) This is the same tune as FORTUNE MY FOE. - See POPULAR MUSIC OF THE OLDEN TIME, p. 162.