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Confession of a Croakin Nag A Ballad after ?Booker?? and Kipling -- a long way after The Chorus. O, The sexton's fare Is my own Hot air But his own fresh Earth is free; And my Father's Lies Were a thin disguise - There's a welcome in "Home" for me. The Confession My life was a fling From a beggarly King, But I thought 'twas a treasure rare; I could put on the airs Of a Boss of Affairs And be free from worry and care. So I struck out wild Like an ignorant child, To offer my promises free. And the credulous fools Were my readiest tools To back up, - and to swear by me! Chorus I opened a Stitch Of the suddenly rich And let out a treasure of gold; And that is just where By the rush of Hot Air My Wee better judgement was sold. I went for a strike With old "Unkle Ike", In some Doggrell just fit for the times; But the spirit of cash Wouldn't hark to my "mash", And failed to replenish the dimes. Chorus