A Monstrous Good Song

Ye poets employ all the force of your lays, To suppress all the ills of these troublesome days, When Justice sits blind-folded, crippl'd and lame, Say, do you not think it a monstrous shame?

In talking of Monsters, it puts one in mind, Of the numbers we have, who all differ in kind; Yet each is permitted to play a foul game, Say, do you not think it a monstrous shame?

The great men who're deep in the nation's affairs, Oft play up old Nick, with the Bulls and the Bears, With a hum, all Change Alley they set in a flame, Say, do you not think it a monstrous shame?

The Lawyer's so deep in his logical skill, He's sure to entangle you, do what you will, Shou'd he fail or succeed in your cause, 'tis the same, Say, do you not think it a monstrous shame?

The Methodist drives on a monstrous trade, By setting up scare-crows to make us afraid, Till kicking in fits you see many a Dame, Say, do you not think it a monstrous shame?

Say, is't not the very worst species of vice, That the comforts of life are so high in their price; That knaves, by collusion, shou'd play us this game, I swear and protest, 'tis a monstrous shame?

Sure every good man must see with much pain, That the Monster MONOPOLY's, suffer'd to reign, But shou'd he reign long, ev'ry mortal's to blame, And if he's not hang'—'tis a monstrous shame!

The report of each day which is bawl'd in our ears, Is a monster, which often is made by our fears; Report tells us fibs, some dark purpose to frame, That the world will believe—is a monstrous shame!