By hiding it so hard that all could see.
He'd make men black in everybody's eye—
Taking their part, so stoutly to deny
Things they had never done, nor none suspected . .
Until his stout defence was interjected!
No dun with more reluctance or regret
Ever came knocking to present a debt,
Than he so mildly, sadly would reproach
A friend—or any painful subject broach.
His martyred look no mortal could resist
More than a gossamer to Dempsey's fist,
It had the power to put you in the wrong
And suck excuses from a rawhide thong.
When of apologies your heart was poor
You always seemed to owe him more and more,
The star of Tartuffe by his own grew dim
And Pecksniff was a nincompoop to him!
He was the guy to censure or expunge
The folk on whom he'd condescend to sponge,
And when he ate you out of hearth and home,
On independence lecture you a tome.
A counter-jumper born of base degree
In all the world no greater snob than he,
Though he descended from some anglo-parson
Who had committed [something else than] arson,
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