Tetotums we've for patriots got,
Who court the mob with antics humble;
Alike their short and dizzy lot,
A glorious spin, and then—a tumble.
Who'll buy? &c. &c.
Here misers may their bones inter
In shrouds of neat post-obit paper;
While, for their beirs, we've quicksilver,
That, fast as heart can wish, will caper.
For aldermen we've dials true,