The other's length solely depends
Upon the time when we begin it;
Get but set out—before life ends—
For all's set right when once we're in it.
They're now debating which is best—
The short-cut votes the others double;
For this good reason, 'mongst the rest,
It really saves a world of trouble.
He that from goodness farthest strays,
Becomes a saint of first degree;
And Ranter Jeremiah says,
"Let bad ones only come to me."
Old Earth-worm soon obeys the call,
Conscious, perhaps, he wanted mending,
For some few flaws from Adam's fall,
Gloss'd o'er by cant and sheer pretending.
Still stick to him afield or home,
The methodistic brush defying,
So that the Ranter's curry-comb
Is now the only means worth trying.
In habits form'd since sixty years,
The hopes of change won't weigh a feather—
Their power so o'er him domineers,
That they and life must end together.
See on their right a gambling few,
Whose every word and look display
A desperate, dark, designing crew,
Intent upon each others' pay.
They're racers, cockers, carders keen,
As ever o'er a tankard met,
Or ever bowl'd a match between
The Popplin Well and Mawvin's yett."
On cock-fight, dog-fight, cuddy-race,
Or pitch and toss, trippet and coit,
Or on a soap-tail'd grunter's chase,
They'll risk the last remaining doit.
They're now at cards, and Gibby Gripe
Is peeping into Harry's hand;
And ev'ry puff blown from his pipe
His party easily understand.