Autolycus pipes ballads; public pockets are his aim;
Rabagas raves of "liberty"; advancement is his game;
And when their dupes aren't looking all these rogues do just the same,
They—wink the other eye!
Chorus.—Say, boys, pæans will you sing
To winking harpies all a-wing
To prey on fools; who steal, and sting,
And—wink the other eye?
Wisdom may smile, but Cunning can't,
She winks the other eye.