On the sands thus spoke to me:
“A dear old Nunky, who sleeps in peace
In a sepulchre here by the sea,
Was graciously pleased on his decease,
To leave me some L. S. D.
“In Bank Consols, which are safe and sound,
But yield only percentage three,
While seven at least, all the season round
Might be shared from the L. C. D.”
I was a child, and he was a child,