Wooden Leg by James McIntyre — Read

Misfortune sometimes is a prize, / And is a blessing in disguise;

A man with a stout wooden leg, / Through town and country he can beg.

And the people in the city, / On poor man they do take pity;

He points them to his timber leg / And tells them of his poor wife, Meg.

And if a dog tries him to bite, / With his stiff leg he doth him smite, / Or sometimes he will let him dig / His teeth into the wooden leg.

Then never more will dog delight / This poor cripple man for to bite;

Rheumatic pains they never twig, / Nor corns annoy foot of leg.

So cripple if he's man of sense, / Finds for ills some recompense;

And though he cannot dance a jig, / He merry moves on wooden leg.

And when he only has one foot, / He needs to brush only one boot;

Through world he does jolly peg, / So cheerful with his wooden leg.

In mud or water he can stand / With his foot on the firm dry land, / For wet he doth not care a fig, / It never hurts his wooden leg.

No aches he has but on the toes / Of one foot, and but one gets froze;

He has many a jolly rig, / And oft enjoys his wooden leg.