Ought's nothink, and that as is, is; all the rest isn't wuth a old Song.
Bad as Buggins, the Radical Cobbler, these mugs are. Sez Buggins, sez he,
Wos it Nature give Mudford his millions, and three bob a day to poor me?
Not a bit on it. Nature's a mother, and meant all her gifts for us all.
It's a Law as gives Mudford his Castle, and leaves me a poor Cobbler's Stall.
All I've got to say, Charlie, is this. If so be Nature meant all that there,
She must be a fair "J." as a mater. I've bin bested out of my share.
So has Buggins, and nine out o' ten on us. If the few nobble the quids
Spite of Nature, wy Nature's a noodle as cannot purtect her own kids.
Poor Buggins! He's nuts upon Henery George, William Morris, and such.