He’s only a dog in the dark to be sure,
But I who am mourning his plight,
Know accident often exalts the low boor,
And crowds merit down out of sight.
How oft do we see the chief dunce of the town,
With head like a turnip or melon,
Advanced to the Bench, or clergyman’s gown,
Though thought to be born for a felon.
Dost laugh at my song? Well I care not a pin,
My notion I never shall lose;