'Tis whispered about, how true I shan't say, The people's oft taxed, and always made pay; And who handles the cash? the Lord only knows, Or what road it travels--for what, it all goes-- Is a mystery to all; no improvements they see, 'Tis sarcastically said, there never will be. If the great men of fortune don't aid or direct The improvement of town, it will ne'er take effect. Alas, these poor souls, if they secure their own health, Let us wallow in _mud_, while they're rolling in wealth! Could you see these _great folks_, I protest you would laugh, And swear on each _body_ stuck the head of a calf. I'd say you were right--with hearts hard as a stone; When applied to for _alms_ or asked for a _loan_. * * * * * Before I left home, one night at aunt Kate's A confab we had concerning new States, I then said what since to my sorrow proved true, When settled in old States never emigrate to new, You called me false prophet, said to Louisville hie, Which for beauty and commerce would with Boston soon vie, And moreover you said a _great man_ I could be, If I'd take for my text: boys, huzza, we're all free. Dear sir, how you erred, Kentucky's quite changed; If you say here, we're free, folks vow you deranged, For our keen wealthy Yankees located here, Rule the natives by art, it cannot be fear; For I've seen them so rave, curse and swear so uncivil; 'Twould shake '_steady habits_' quite as much as the d----l. * * * * * Now you'll own without money man _here_ has less chance Than Don Quixote in combat, deprived of his lance. CHAPTER VI.