THE RIGHT OF SEARCH.
Come, turn out your pockets, and empty your purse,
Produce your account-books, your income to show;
If embarrassed, exposure will make matters worse,
And perhaps 'twill be better the sooner you go.
On the margin of ruin suppose that you stand,
Oh say, man of trade, can it matter a pin
If prying commissioners lend you a hand,
To the gulf that's beneath you, to tumble you in!
Then out with your ledger; 'tis true that you owe
Unto the assessor himself some hard cash;
But perhaps, after all, it is right he should know,
And sell you up first, lest he lose by your smash.
With America lately we've had a great fuss,
About right of search, and the boundary line;
But at home, in exerting the right upon us,
To keep within bounds the assessors decline.
Then do not discourage a neighbour who'd pry;
For though for awhile his design you may baulk,
He'll be certain to know your concerns by-and-by,
For e'en the discreetest assessor will talk.
Though you lose by your business, oh why should you care,
If the fact is presented to every one's view?
For if your account-books no profit declare,
Though it's nothing to others—it's nothing to you.