Which would content me for my lease of life,
Invested snugly in the Three-per-Cents.
The Captain homeward sailed to England’s shore,
And paid his sum to Whittington—so he
Became a sucking Crœsus—bought and sold,
And “rigged the market” like our “bulls” and “bears,”
Became a man whose name across a bill
Drew ready cash—then Sheriff—then Lord Mayor,
And built himself an everlasting name:
And of his acts if more ye wish to learn,