Credit and cash could ne'er be equal powers—
Give trust to all or don't give trust at all.
It is the little rift within the lute
That cracks the sound and makes the music mute,
And leaves the banjo nothing worth at all.
It is the little moth within the suit,
It is the merry maggot in the fruit,
That worming surely, slowly ruins all.
It is the little leaven makes the lump,
It is the little piston works the pump;