LEnvoi

 Only a rhymer, so I am,
 Lone in the market place;
I shrink, and no one cares a damn
 Though tears corrode my face.
The hollows of my cheeks they track,
 Symbolic of vain hope;
My hands are grimed because I lack
 The price of soap.

Only a rhymer! How my breeks
 Let in the Winter wind;
One of my shoes obscenely leaks,
 My coat is safety pinned.
Although my neb drips bead on bead,
 No handkerchief have I;
My lips are blue, but none have heed
 My songs to buy.

Only a rhymer,--just a chiel
 Spewed from the land of Burns,
 A wastrel and a ne'er-do-weel,
 From whom the public turns.
Alas! It is to late to mend
 The error of my ways,
So I will jingle to the end
 Of all my days.

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