In the Days of our fathers, when matters of state
Were freely discussed without rancor or hate,

A question arose, whom with truth we might call,
Midst rogues of all kinds, the worst robbers of all.

The Footpad who gags the poor devils he robs,

Does no more than great men when engaged in black jobs;
But, in fact, though such gagging we horrid do call,

We cannot count him the worst robber of all.

Said a grave-looking elder, I’ll soon let you see,
And certain I am you’ll not differ from me;

The Baker who poisons, a villain we call,

But yet he is not the worst robber of all.

The Doctor who robs you of health with his fee,
While out of my dotage shall ne’er physic me;
With pain when he tampers, a rogue you may call,
But still we’ve not found the worst robber of all.

In the Lawyer’s chicane, when he urges to sue,

You all the world over a rascal may view;

But though with strict justice a knave you may call,
The issue won’t prove the worst robber of all.

The Brewer, the Merchant, with sugar of lead,

Your bowels may ruin, and madden your head;

’Tis true, these most justly you villains may call,
But of rogues, they are not the worst robbers of all.

The Seducer, when innocence falls in his way,
Has to answer for her whom his arts lead astray;
A villain detested we ever should call,

But yet we’ve to seek the worst robbers of all.

The Detracter, more base, still exceeds him in crime,
For in cold-blooded darkness he chooses his time;
Though in evil most fatal his practices fall,

Even he we can’t say’s the worst robber of all.

But abhorrence, you cry, of new language has need,
To paint him who merits this stigma, indeed;
Indignation will burst for its utt’rance to call,
Delinquents so vile,—the worst robbers of all.

They’re the slaves who pervert the best claims of the T[hron]e,
Who by gagging the nation would rule all alone,

Who would rob a whole People of Freedom, we call,

And execrate—sure, the WORST ROBBERS OF ALL!