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Though rags outside may very well hide good woollens beneath, if it's cold!

And when once he's exempted, he gaily departs and pops up at the Fishmongers' stalls.

Then, next, you have trained in the speechmaking arts nigh every infant that crawls.

Oh, this is the thing that such havoc has wrought in the wrestling-school, narrowed the hips

Of the poor pale chattering children, and taught the crews of the pick of the ships

To answer back pat to their officer's nose! How unlike my old sailor of yore,

With no thought in his head but to guzzle his brose and sing as he bent at the oar!

And spit on the heads of the rowers below, and garott stray lubbers on shore!

But our new man just sails where it happens to blow, and argues, and rows no more!

What hasn't he done that is under the sun,

And the love-dealing dames that with him have begun?

One's her own brother's wife;

One says Life is not Life;

And one goes into shrines to give birth to a son!