XV

The Sinful Rich go whizzing by all day

In wealthy wagons, looking pert and swell;

They get the ride, the Commons get the smell

And full of thought and microbes wend their way.

Maxy the Firebug says that Mammon's sway

Is stringing Virtue to a fare-ye-well,

But wait, he says, till Labor with a yell

Soaks Mam a crack forninst the vertebray.

The Rich, says Max, are simply dips and yeggs

That lift the headlight beads from yaps like us;

They pinch your pie, sew up our ham and eggs

And leave us minus all that they are plus.

The world, says Max, belongs to me and Bill

And Mrs. Casey - whoa! let's roll a pill!