Equal? Yus, as old Barnum and Buggins, or tigers and tarrier pups.
He's a long-winded lot, is Buchanan, slops over tremenjous, he do;
Kinder poet, dear boy, I believe, and they always do flop round a few,
Make a rare lot o' splash and no progress, like ducks in a tub, dontcher know,
But cackle and splutter ain't swimming; so Robert, my nabs, it's no go.
Men ain't equal a mite, that's a moral, and patter won't level 'em up.
Wy yer might as well talk of a popgun a holding its own with a Krupp.
'Ow the brains and the ochre got fust ladled hout is a bit beyond me,
But to fancy as them as has got 'em will part is dashed fiddle-de-dee.
Normans nicked? Landlords copped? Lawyers fiddled? Quite likely; I dessay they did.