And do daring deeds for greed and for gain,
Where the mellow milk-punch and the green-fatted turtle
Now mildly digest, and now madden with pain?
Know ye the land of Stone and of Vine,
Where mayors ever banquet and aldermen dine;
Where Emma[112] was wooed, and Abbott laid low,
And they fly paper kites and big bubbles blow;
Where Gold is a god unassail’d in his might,
And neck-ties are loosened when stocks get too tight?
If this district you know—it is E.C. to guess,