Though they've taken all I gave!
They, not muffled drums, want beating
Soundly till they look quite grave.
Talk of board rooms' tittle tattle!
Stuff! I have insured my life.
I'm not dumb, like driven cattle!
And I'll make a precious strife!
Trust the Future? Come, that's pleasant!
Wait until I'm buried—dead?
No, I'll make a row at present.