Nourished inside with insufficient calories,
A sordid mineral's uncomplaining slave,
Till the rheumatics get him and his pallor is
So marked he hardly dares to wash and shave.
And shall I grudge the man sufficient pelf
For toil I'd rather die than do myself?
Ah, there's the rub! I fain would see him blest
With ample quarters and sufficient food,
A spacious close wherein to take his rest,
Hats for his wife and bootlets for his brood.