By cobbler’s wax-end hangs, sir,
I found myself an M. P. by
M.P. rical harangues, sir,
And though my “lay” was strong and bold,
(For “takings” flowed in thereby)
The Crown I’d cursed—I’ll now uphold,
The Book Pd scorned I’ll swear by!
For this should be the law, I say,
And shall do to my grave, sir,
A man may swear his soul away,