Not a creature, of course, to be told,
Not a word to appear in the press!
My wants are but few, to be sure,
And yet, when I think of the poor,
I long to be rich, I confess!
With the poor, as the world is aware,
Stars and ribands one cannot well share,
But gold is a different thing!
Yes, just for a hundred francs down
I’d cheerfully pawn both my crown