Where is my hunting lodge, deep in the wild wood
(Hounds that are poisoned can’t answer the call),
Where are the tenants I bullied since childhood?
And where are my rack-rents? They’re gone to the wall.
Ah, my sad pocket ’tis easy to measure,
Land Leagues and lawsuits exhausted your treasure,
Fifty per cent. I’d abate now with pleasure
But the devil a ha’penny they’ll give me at all!
New Year is here now, and creditors pressing,
One dying wish! ere I’m forced to withdraw