Of Fashion, Gaming, and all vain pursuits;
The outcome of all gullibility.
And a veneered respectability;
They need no training, nor scholastic rules.
Customs perpetuate the race of fools;
A Nation's victimisers and their tricks,
Of many, have made fools and lunatics;
And the distinction between rogues and fools,
Is partly that 'twixt workmen and their tools;
Of which we have experience all around.
And knowledge that they everywhere abound;
Indeed my task would be voluminous,
Were I the march of folly to discuss.
Or of rascality, which I expect
Will soon outstride the march of intellect.
I satirise Society because
I much dislike its follies and gewgaws;
At best, its circles—he will find who seeks—
Consist of mutual admiration cliques.
And some, who manifest to all outside,
Their vanity, hypocrisy, or pride;[1]
NOTES
- ↑ Their vanity, hypocrisy, or pride;] A couplet of Lord
