To patriot asses and radical tools;
In the den of corruption we fatten and swarm,
Then let’s keep our places and laugh at the fools.
Your place may be easy, and mine may be hard;
But while the cash comes from the Treasury chest,
The fool who’d relinquish his honest reward,
Deserves not to eat or to drink of the best.
Shall I ask the old fogie, who sits by my side
And plunders the hive, if our tenets agree?
Shall I give up my friend, who for bribery was tried?