Do tell when shall we make common sense men out of the owl-eyed pundits
Out of The Frog-faced stupid old God-born Pundits who lost in a fog-bank
Strut about all along shore there somewhere close by the Down East
Frog Duck Pond munching of pea nuts and pumpkins and buried in big-wigs
Why ask who ever yet saw money made out of a fat old
Jew or downright upright nutmegs out of a pine-knot
Return to the Edgar Allan Poe library , or . . . Read the next poem; For Annie