The Philistines, Puritans, Podsnaps, and Prigs
Of Britain play up some preposterous rigs,
And tax e'en cosmopolite charity.
But here is a business that's not to be borne;
Its mead is the flail and the vial of scorn,
Not chaffing or Christmas hilarity.
The Skunk not indigenous, Sirs, to our Isle?
The assertion might well bring a cynical smile
To the lips of a critical Yankee.
The vermin is here; he has set up a shop,