In the upper circles Moves a famous man Who has had no equal Since the world began.
He was once a broker Down by the exchange; He is now a nabob — Do n't you think it strange?
In his low back office, Near the Bowling Green, With his brother brokers He was often seen;—
Shaving and discounting, Dabbling in the stocks, He achieved a fortune Of a million ROCKS!’
Next he formed a marriage With a lady fair, And his splendid carriage Bowled about THE square,
Where his spacious mansion Like a palace stood, Envied and admired By the multitude.
Then he took the tour Of the continent, Bearer of dispatches From the President:
A legation button By permission wore, And became that worthy, An official bore.
Charmed with foreign countries, Lots of coin to spend, He a house in London Took a the West End,
Where he dwelt a season, And in grandeur shone, But to all the beau monde Utterly unknown.
England then was “foggy, And society Too aristocratic” For his — pedigree:
So he crossed the channel To escape the BLUES, And became the idol Of the parvenues.
“Dear, delightful Paris!” He would often say: “Every earthly pleasure One can have for — pay.
Wealth gives high position; But when money's tight, Man is at a discount, And it serves him right.”
After years of study How to cut a dash, He came home embellished With a huge — moustache!
Now he is a lion, All the rage up town, And gives gorgeous parties Supervised by — Brown!
The almighty dollar Is, no doubt, divine, And he worships daily At that noble shrine;
Fashion is his idol, Money is his god, And they both together Rule him like a rod.
Books, and busts, and pictures, Are with him a card — While abroad he bought them Cheaply — by the yard!
But his sumptuous dinners, To a turn quite right, With his boon companions, Are his chief delight.
Thee his wit and wassail, Like twin-currents flow In his newest stories, Published — long ago.
His enchanted hearers Giggle till they weep, As it is their duty Till they — fall asleep.
On his carriage panel Is a blazoned crest, With a Latin motto Given him — in jest.
His black coach and footman, Dressed in livery, Every day at Stewart's Many crowd to see.
Well — in upper-ten-dom Let him rest in peace, And may his investments Cent, per cent, increase:
Though on earth for no one Cares the millionaire, So does NOT exactly His devoted — heir!
There's a useful moral Woven with my rhyme, Which may be considered At — some other time:
Crockery is not porcelain — It is merely delf — And the kind most common Is the man himself.
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