No. II.—THE GROWL OF THE BEAR.
(By a Singer in "Air.")
["In consequence of the rumour that,... American stocks declined heavily.... The rumour proved totally without foundation."—Any Money-article; any day.]
There is little that goads us with fiercer despair
(Those who buy, you perpend, stock, debenture or share,
Such as speculate mainly; investors are rare—)
Than this growl ill-conditioned of pestilent Bear!
With a craftiness planned and a malice unfair,
Improvising a scare unsubstantial as air—
Now it's "war," now "disease," and the world must prepare
For the death of, say, GOULD, or a Chilian flare;
Or the "cutting of rates:" I am quite unaware
What it means, I declare, but it's "cutting," I swear,
To a person like me, not a flush millionaire
Who must "realise" scrip,—and the canker of care.
It would seem, we could e'er so conveniently spare
From a world too competitive, blarneyed with blare,
Both the Yankee of Wall-Street, his London confrère,
And all criers of "Lost!" when no losses are there;
All the wreckers, whose lair is secure past compare,
All who batten on bones with a maw debonair,
And the carcase of Poverty torture and tear
With historical fraud, and benevolent glare.
Who will join me in sport that is novel—who'll dare
In his prosperous pit to go baiting the "Bear,"
Who will lead him a dance, who his talons will pare,
And make summary work of this ursine affair?