I come and give it such a turn,
You find there’s something yet to learn;
If to the inn you seek for rest,
I chuck you in a box or chest;
The beggar’s rags I make so proud,
He of his garments boasts aloud;
The aged and infirm with me
Lose caution and timidity;
For, young or old, to every one
I furnish, if not muscle, bone.