We thought, as we lay in our embryo mould,
Of the fun we should have when grown older;
But we learnt that all glittering things are not gold,
That a "gilder" is hardly a "golder."
Lightly they talked of our humble alloy,
And how we were base and degraded;
And tried in all possible ways to annoy
Our lives, which already were faded.
Though half our heavy blows and kicks,
We never thought once of returning;