English poem
Ii
by John Stephen Farmer (1854–1916)
And where the swag so bleakly pinched A hundred stretches hence? The thimbles, slangs, and danglers filched, A hundred stretches hence? The chips, the fawneys, chatty-feeders, The bugs, the boungs, and well-filled readers; And where the fence, and snoozing ken, With all the prigs and lushing men, A hundred stretches hence?