No more I see the good old times
When fools were fools, and crimes were crimes,
And boys and men had work to do,
And did not play till work was through.
The times have changed; so have the boys!
I know this, when I hear your noise,
And note your slack work, day by day;
Each lad must have his own small way,
If it is but to loaf and loll,
Or else, not to come in at all,
Or not to care for what is done
If so be it can yield no fun,
Or else, to be as coarse and rough,
As rash and rude, and grum and gruff,
As though it were some bear that spoke,
Whom all the world must long to choke.

For shame, my lads! I let you draw
All I can spare to you by law;
Each lad of you takes all he can,
But not a soul acts like a man!
What do you _do_, for such fine pay?
What have you done these five months? Say!
You know you ought to do some good;
The friends that sent you, think you should.
Have you no pride, no sense! In fine,
Why do you waste their time and mine?

If it could move you, I'd tell how
The boys that sat where you sit now