Ah! had we been twenty—not fifty—one!
A Baronet! J.P.! D.L.!
But it means harder work, little pleasure;
We must stick to the City as well,
Though we're tired and longing for leisure.
We shall soon become toothless, dyspeptic, and done,
As rich as the Bank, though we can't chew a bun,
And the gold-grubber's grave is the goal that we've won
At seventy—eighty—or ninety-one."