['Nobody loves millionaires any more. ' -- Mr. ZIMMERMAN.]
Time was when Society wooed me, The populace fawned at my feet; Men petted and praised and pursued me, My social success was complete. The pick of the Peerage, with smiles on their faces, Would sell me their family portraits and places.
With stairs of pure marble below me, My stand as a host I would take, While guests (who, of course, didn't know me) The hand of my butler would shake, Averring, in phrases delightfully hearty, How much they enjoyed his agreeable party.
I gave away libraries gratis, Each village and town to adorn, Till with the expression '_Jam satis! _' Lord Rosebery laughed them to scorn; And soon Mr. Gosse and the groundlings were snarling At one who must style himself Nobody's Darling!
And now when I purchase their pictures, Or bid for some family seat, Men pass most disparaging strictures, Discussing my action with heat; While newspapers term it a 'public disaster' Each time I endeavour to buy an Old Master!
The country I rob of its treasures (By carting its ruins away! ); I lessen all popular pleasures By spoiling the market, they say; And so they invoke Mr. George's assistance To tax the poor plutocrat out of existence!
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