A statesman sits at Hawarden gate,
(Paper and pens and a bottle of ink.)
A stalwart man with a shapely pate,
And brains to spare, as you rightly think.
The live-long day he’s been hacking down trees,
(Paper and pens and two bottles of ink.)
Toughish work, yet he does it with ease,
Nor e’en doth, as Milton would phrase it, “swink.”
Who is’t approacheth? ha! ha! The post!
(Paper and pens and a pint of ink.)