“A Bad Workman Complains of his Tools.”

This Pen of mine is simply grand, I never loved a pen so much; This Paper ( underneath my hand ) Is really a delight to touch;

And never in my life, I think, Did I make use of finer ink. The Subject upon which I write Is everything that I could choose;

I seldom knew my Wits more bright, More cosmopolitan my Views; Nor ever did my Head contain So surplus a supply of Brain!