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A Song of Greenwich

The lords of Greenwich sallied forth

The men, also the maids;

The dames had cut and combed their hair,

The men wore theirs in braids.

They came unto a comrade’s room,

They laid on him their hands

Said they, “Oh fiend, oh cringing wretch!

“Behold the traitor stands!”

They punched him thrice upon the nose,

They blacked his gleaming eye;

They nailed his trousers to the wall

And left him there to die.

But people came and cut him down

And gave him other pants.

“And tell us now,” the people said

“How this thing came to chance?”

“Alas for me!” the wretch replied,

“My sinful lust for gold!

“My former friends are down on me—

I wrote a book that sold!”