No amorous chains my heart enthrall,
I neither borrow, lend, nor sell;
Fearless I roam the City Hall,
And bite my thumb at Sheriff Bell.
The horse that twice a week I ride
At Mother Dawson’s eats his fill;
My books at Goodrich’s abide,
My country-seat is Weehawk hill;
My morning lounge is Eastburn’s shop,
At Poppleton’s I take my lunch,