My broker once his friendship used to brag;
Check’d by the panic in his zeal to pay,
He casts me off, a poor abandoned stag,
And sternly bids me think of settling day.
My creditors, who know I’ve dealt in Shares,
Struck with suspicion at the wreck they see,
Tell me for worthless Scrip there’s no one cares,
But ready money they must have from me.
Pity the sorrows of a poor old Stag,
Brought by the panic to the workhouse door;