The man who taketh a steam bath
     He loseth all the skin he hath,
     And, for he 's boiled a brilliant red,
     Thinketh to cleanliness he's wed,
     Forgetting that his lungs he's soiling
     With dirty vapors of the boiling.

     Richard Gwow.

     Who is that, father?
     A mendicant, child,
     Haggard, morose, and unaffable—wild!
     See how he glares through the bars of his cell!
     With Citizen Mendicant all is not well.

     Why did they put him there, father?
     Because
     Obeying his belly he struck at the laws.
     His belly?

     Oh, well, he was starving, my boy—
     A state in which, doubtless, there 's little of joy.
     No bite had he eaten for days, and his cry
     Was "Bread!" ever "Bread!"

     What 's the matter with pie?
     With little to wear, he had nothing to sell;
     To beg was unlawful—improper as well.

     Why did n't he work?
     He would even have done that,
     But men said: "Get out!" and the State re     marked: "Scat!"
     I mention these incidents merely to show
     That the vengeance he took was uncommonly low.
     Revenge, at the best, is the act of a Siou,
     But for trifles—

     Pray what did bad Mendicant do?
     Stole two loaves of bread to replenish his lack
     And tuck out the belly that clung to his back.
     Is that all father dear?

     There is little to tell:

     They sent him to jail, and they'll send him to—
     well,
     The company's better than here we can boast,
     And there's—
     Bread for the needy, dear father?
     Um—toast.

     Atka Mip

     Recordare, Jesu pie,
     Quod sum causa tuæ viæ
     Ne me perdas illa die.

     Pray remember, sacred Savior,
     Whose the thoughtless hand that gave your
     Death-blow. Pardon such behavior.

     He thought it a crow, but it turned out to be
     A monk of St. Benedict croaking a text.
     "Here 's one of an order of cooks," said he—
     "Black friars in this world, fried black in the
     next."

     "The Devil on Earth" (London, 1712).