My heart swells until it might well burst asunder
Before the strains of such puissant poetic thunder
As I have seen, I do declare, this eve upon the page
Wherein savants such as freda and Amos proudly siezed the stage

And did declare in verses most magnificent
Emotions neither lewd nor even slightly maleficent
No, not of the coarser sort by which society is oftimes cursed
By those vile ruffians who do consort with more vulgar verse

Such as may be heard at night in those noisome public houses
That are scattered about our fair country towns like some many louses
Wherein those vile wretches copiously and heedlessly consume
The spiritous liquors that must one day deliver them to their doom

And these tragic souls then wander the streets declaiming
With ribald verse and vulgar songs profanely exclaiming
They do affront the mother and child and the virgins too
As they stick facedown on the pavement like carpenter's glue

There to disgrace themselves and impoverish their poor wives
Whose faces wax pale like sheets or perhaps old butter knives
For what should transpire when the sotted wretch comes home vexed
To find that his vile habit has left him morally perplexed

And not of any use to the betterment of society
Nor even of as much utility as a leaden boat would be
If launched upon the waters, for being overheavy it must sink
Just as does the drunkard down, down into his drink!

Therefore, be warned all who would be thus enticed astray
From the bosom of a family life. Do not be waylaid!
But eschew the cursed demon drink, and live to be a credit
To your queen and country, without affrontery. There! I'm glad I said it.