That Tom was poor was sure a pity, br Such guts for learning had the lad; br He took to Greek like babe to titty, br And he was mathematic mad. br I loved to prime him up with knowledge, br A brighter lad I never knew; br I dreamed that he would go to college br And there be honoured too. br br But no! His Dad said, "Son, I need you br To keep the kettle on the boil; br No longer can I clothe and feed you, br Buy study books and midnight oil. br I carry on as best I'm able, br A humble tailor, as you know; br And you must squat cross-legged a table br And learn to snip and sew." br br And that is what poor Tom is doing. br He bravely makes the best of it; br But as he "fits" you he is knowing br That he himself is a misfit; br And thinks as he fulfils his calling, br With patient heart yet deep distaste, br Like clippings from his shears down-falling, br --He, too, is Waste.