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No use! well, I mayn’t be. You ring a pig’s snout, And then call the animal glutton! Now, he, Mr. Shopman, he’s nought but a pipe and a spout Who won’t let the goods o’ this world pass free. This blazing blue weather all round the brown crop, He can’t enjoy! all but cash he hates. He’s only a snail that crawls under his shop; Though he has got the ear o’ the magistrates.