Excerpt: "With a pipe between his lips, Two young dogs upon his hips," Jogs along old Caspar Sly; How that man can smoke-oh my! But although the pipe-bowl glows Red and hot beneath his nose, Yet his heart is icy-cold; How can earth such wretches hold! "Of what earthly use to me Can such brutes," he mutters, "be? Do they earn their vittles? No! 'Tis high time I let 'em go. What you don't want, fling away! Them's my sentiments, I say!"