When he's "out in the wet"; on that you may bet—ah! an ironclad to a coracle!
He may mean well, but The Truth to tell in a fashion straight and steady,
Without "cavort" or a "list to port," is as hard—as song to a Neddy!
Johnny, old boy, you must just employ your own wits on this business;
Party debate will addle your pate, ex-parte "facts" bring dizziness.
Look for yourself, and you'll save much pelf, and good value get for your money,
Squelch party fudge, be your own best judge, and you'll floor the croakers, Johnny!
Still, Johnny mine, on my breadths of brine, you must keep first place, or perish.
'Tis with that thought you have paid and fought, and that thought you still must cherish.
Better plank down your last half-crown, than lose the Crown I gave you,