Ix

He says I'm no use! but I won't reply. You're lucky not being of use to him! On week-days he's playing at Spider and Fly, And on Sundays he sings about Cherubim! Nailing shillings to counters is his chief work: He nods now and then at the name on his door: But judge of us two, at a bow and a smirk, I think I'm his match: and I'm honest--that's more.