And tax e'en cosmopolite charity.
But here is a business that's not to be borne;
Its mead is the flail and the vial of scorn,
Not chaffing or Christmas hilarity.
The skunk not indigenous, sirs, to our Isle?
The assertion might well bring a cynical smile
To the lips of a critical Yankee.
The vermin is here; he has set up a shop,
And seems doing a prosperous trade, which to stop
Demands more than mere law's hanky-panky.