He’s not at all partic’lar what abuse
Accrues for keeping sons’ or daughters’ shoes
Much longer than he ought—he care? not he!—
He’s well inured to such-like trickery:
Come what there will, if there’s the slightest chance,
(Be ’t funeral-weeping, or a wedding-dance,)
The faintest prospect—either facts or fibs—
Where there is hopes of friendship with some ribs
Of beef sirloin, or rump, no matter which—
“The devil take the awl,”—not one more stitch