In his low back office,
Near the Bowling Green,
With his brother brokers
He was often seen;—
Shaving and discounting,
Dabbling in the stocks,
He achieved a fortune
Of a million ROCKS!'
Next he formed a marriage
With a lady fair,
And his splendid carriage
Bowled about THE square,
Where his spacious mansion
Like a palace stood,
Envied and admired
By the multitude.
Then he took the tour
Of the continent,
Bearer of dispatches
From the President:
A legation button
By permission wore,
And became that worthy,
An official bore.
Charmed with foreign countries,
Lots of coin to spend,
He a house in London
Took a the West End,
Where he dwelt a season,
And in grandeur shone,
But to all the beau monde
Utterly unknown.
England then was "foggy,
And society
Too aristocratic"
For his—pedigree:
So he crossed the channel
To escape the BLUES,
And became the idol
Of the parvenues.
"Dear, delightful Paris!"
He would often say:
"Every earthly pleasure
One can have for—pay.
Wealth gives high position;
But when money's tight,
Man is at a discount,
And it serves him right."
After years of study
How to cut a dash,
He came home embellished
With a huge—moustache!
Now he is a lion,
All the rage up town,
And gives gorgeous parties
Supervised by—Brown!
The almighty dollar
Is, no doubt, divine,
And he worships daily
At that noble shrine;
Fashion is his idol,
Money is his god,
And they both together
Rule him like a rod.
Books, and busts, and pictures,
Are with him a card—
While abroad he bought them
Cheaply—by the yard!
But his sumptuous dinners,
To a turn quite right,
With his boon companions,
Are his chief delight.
Thee his wit and wassail,
Like twin-currents flow
In his newest stories,
Published—long ago.
His enchanted hearers
Giggle till they weep,
As it is their duty
Till they—fall asleep.