Burn these damned taxation-papers!
All these scribblers may look out soon
If this flame can be extinguished
With the fluid in their inkstands."
Said another: "Thou, oh governor,
Didst consign me to a dungeon;
Poor my fare, with only water!
Thou hast wine within thy cellar,
And I hope we now shall try it.
Yes, with thee I'll square accounts soon!"