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 Oh! A Baronet's rank is exceedingly nice, But the title's uncommonly dear at the price!

Ye well-to-do squires, who live in the shires,
 * Where petty distinctions are vital,

Who found Athenaeums and local museums,
 * With a view to a baronet's title—

Ye butchers and bakers and candlestick makers
 * Who sneer at all things that are tradey—

Whose middle-class lives are embarrassed by wives
 * Who long to parade as "My Lady",

Oh! allow me to offer a word of advice, The title's uncommonly dear at the price!

Ye supple M.P.'s who go down on your knees,
 * Your precious identity sinking,

And vote black or white as your leaders indite
 * (Which saves you the trouble of thinking),

For your country's good fame, her repute, or her shame,
 * You don't care the snuff of a candle—

But you're paid for your game when you're told that your name
 * Will be graced by a baronet's handle—

Oh! Allow me to give you a word of advice— The title's uncommonly dear at the price!

I once was a very abandoned person—
 * Making the most of evil chances.

Nobody could conceive a worse 'un—
 * Even in all the old romances.
 * I blush for my wild extravagances,
 * But be so kind
 * To bear in mind,
 * We were the victims of circumstances!


 * That is one of our blameless dances.