How it cut its own throat, and he thought with a smile
Of England’s commercial prosperity.
As he passed through Coldbath Fields, he saw
A solitary cell;
And the Devil he paused, for it gave him a hint
For improving his prisons in hell.
He saw a turnkey in a trice
Fetter a troublesome jade;
“Nimbly,” quoth he, “do the fingers move,
If a man be but used to his trade.”