Black Beetles in Amber

'Tis Master Fitch, the editor;

He takes an holiday.

Now wherefore, venerable sir,

So resolutely gay?

He lifts his head, he laughs aloud,

Odzounds! 'tis drear to see!

"Because the Boodle-Scribbler crowd

Will soon be far from me.

"Full many a year I've striven well

To freeze the caitiffs out

By making this good town a Hell,

But still they hang about.

"They maken mouths and eke they grin

At the dollar limit game;

And they are holpen in that sin

By many a wicked dame.

"In sylvan bowers hence I'll dwell

My bruisèd mind to ease.

Farewell, ye urban scenes, farewell!

Hail, unfamiliar trees!"

Forth Master Fitch did bravely hie,

And all the country folk

Besought him that he come not nigh

The deadly poison oak!

He smiled a cheerful smile (the day

Was straightway overcast)—

The poison oak along his way

Was blighted as he passed!