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Actually published in a Stamford newspaper in July 1821, but it could have been written this morning judging by the state of our world and 'governments’.
The rich mans sins are under
The rose of wealth & station
& escape the sight
Of the children of light
Who are wise in their generation
& escape the sight
Of the children of light
Who are wise in their generation
But the poor mans sins are glaring
In the face of all ghostly warning
He is caught in the fact
Of an overt act
Buying greens on a sunday morning
The rich man has a kitchen
Wherein to cook his dinner
But the poor who would roast
To the bakers must post
& thus he becomes a sinner
But the poor who would roast
To the bakers must post
& thus he becomes a sinner
The rich man has a cellar
& a ready butler by him
The poor man must steer
For his pint of beer
Where the saint is sure to spy him
The rich man's open windows
Hide the concerts of the quality:
The poor can but share
A crack'd fiddle in the air,
Which offends all sound morality.
The rich man is invisible
In the crowd of his gay society
But the poor mans delight
Is a sore in the sight
& a stench in the nose of piety
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