Dives and Lazarus

Once In the history of the race
     There lived mung whose name was Dives, 
Whose sumptous hire had made his face 
     As bland as Cuffee dowered with ????’s 
A little blubber-lipped you'd nay,
     And checks you’d half accuse es flabby
An innocent and unctuous way
     Of doing things that we call ‘shabby’
His fat hands tenderly caressed
     His round swell-front to show content in
The hug of waistband and of vest 
     Its goodly heritage was pent in 
His chin, just tilted up a mite, 
     Had obvious hints of duplication;
The lifted eyes kept earth in sight  
     Mid seeming heavenward speculation;
The conscious ground he trod on knew 
     The presence of its rightful landlord;
The very geese he used to view
     So graciously, confessed him grand lord 
His voice betrayed the oil he’d struck,
     It was so blandly oleaginous:
Good fortune felt herself in luck
     To serve him and did so imagine us.
His smile was opener than his purse, 
     It never was refused the needy!

He'd let his dogs lick Lazarus
     However sadly sore and seedy!
And Lazarus would in thanks exhale
     Saying, 'how generous is your master!” 
And every dog would wag his tail 
     So flattered, and lick on the faster!
He'd give the Synagogue a dime, 
     And credit 'Self, one fare toward heaven' 
And win a dollar back next time, 
     In some goose-bargain sharply driven.
Yet he was generous, to a fault, 
     His own, his greatest generosity:
On sinners he made no assault
     
Avoiding Satan's animosity

Why should he quarrel and take sides
     In ancient feuds of God and Mammon?

He held them fools who risked their hides
     ‘Gainst
 Michael s lance or horns of
Ammon.
For corner lots in favorite sites.
     Either in old or New Jerusalem, 
He could our jew the Israelites 
     With smoothest lingo to bamboozle 'em.
But ah, at last he came to grief, 
     Locked up f’or keeps' in sultry Sheol, 
Without a dewdrop for relief.
     And Lazarus peeping through the key hole!

Now Dives cried, - ‘this isn't nice!
     Good Father Abraham, our well-willer,
Send Lazarus with a lump of ice
     And two-ounce phial of Pain Killer!' 
‘You know I let him pick up crumbs, 
     Allowed my best dogs to massage him,
He'd smell of my chrysanthemums, 
     And not a penny did I charge him!
And when, to raise forth mother Rye 
     A monument 'mong her connexions, 
I passed the hat around to receive 
     The necessary cash collections.
I've sent my coachman with a load
     Of guests for encouraging the churches, 
And I myself have shown the road 
     Among my hollies, oaks and birches.
I'm sure my dear old Abraham
     That you must see upon reflection,
That l am quite too good to damn,
     While ft to bear such close inspection.' 
But father Abraham said, — ‘No, no;
     You've had on earth your cake and lager, 
While this poor wretch had boils and woe, 
     Nor he’s in luck and you’re the beggar,’
‘Then tell my boys, anent my doom,
     To shun my ways or they will share it;
For me, I’ll start a brimstone boom, 
     And so contrive to grin and bear it’