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No use! well, I mayn’t be. You ring a pig’s snout,
And then call the animal glutton! Now, he,
Mr. Shopman, he’s nought but a pipe and a spout
Who won’t let the goods o’ this world pass free.
This blazing blue weather all round the brown crop,
He can’t enjoy! all but cash he hates.
He’s only a snail that crawls under his shop;
Though he has got the ear o’ the magistrates.