They’re all contending for their private ends;
No public spirit - once a vote would bring,
I say a vote - was then a pretty thing;
It made a man to serve his country and his king:
But for that place, that Muggins must resign,
You’ve my advice - ’tis no affair of mine.”
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The Poor Man has his Club: he comes and spends
His hoarded pittance with his chosen friends;
Nor this alone, - a monthly dole he pays,