I will not be browbeaten down--
It is a stubborn streak I have
As makes me, asked to be a knave,
Fight doubly hard, though th’ asker frown.
I was not born within this town
But yesterday, and will be slave
When every last resort outgave
But not until: let life be flown.
Bodily ill, and feeble mind
Dog me, and hamper every step;
These weaken me, and damper pep,
Enthusiasm long outmined--
But worst adversity I find
The poverty as has me schlep
Meaningless weights, across this steppe
Endless to which I am consigned.