 | Poems by George P. Morris |  |
206
THE MILLIONAIRE.
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—
Don't you think it strange?
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—
Don'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!
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.
With a lady fair,
And his splendid carriage
Bowled about the square,
207
Like a palace stood,
Envied and admired
By the multitude.
Then he took the tour
Of the continent,
Bearer of despatches
From the President:
A legation button
By permission wore,
And became that worthy,
An official bore.
Of the continent,
Bearer of despatches
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 at the West End,
Where he dwelt a season,
And in grandeur shone,
But to all the beau monde
Utterly unknown.
Lots of coin to spend,
He a house in London
Took at 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.
And society
Too aristocratic”
For his—pedigree:
208
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.”
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!
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.
Is, no doubt, divine,
And he worships daily
At that noble shrine;
209
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.
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.
There 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.
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.
Is a blazoned crest,
With a Latin motto
Given him—in jest.
210
Dressed in livery,
Every day at Stewart's
Many crowd to see.
[OMITTED]
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!
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!
[OMITTED]
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
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
| Poems by George P. Morris | |