“He’s no good citizen!” the crowd
Of politicians cries aloud.
“How so?” says one.
“Because—why, curse
The man! while we deplete his purse
Some air contentedly he hums,
Or twiddles his incivic thumbs.”
“What more could you desire?”
“The whelp!
We want him to stand in and help.”
“ Two crowds contend, his purse to twist
Away—pray which should he assist?”
“It matters not whose hand unsacks
His shekels, for we all go snacks.”