’Midst mansions and palaces worthy of Rome,
How pleasant, great Bumble, is Poverty’s home!
Gehenna-like gloom seems to circle us there,
Which, seek through the world, is scarce met with elsewhere.
Foul fume as from Styx seems to hang o’er the spot,
Its gutters that reek and its rafters that rot,
Its rain-sodden dwellings that threaten to fall,
And its squalid, sad denizens, drearer than all.
Home, Home, Sweet, Sweet Home!
As ruled by King Bumble, a sweet place is Home!