Classic Poem

My wife a-rattling,
My children tattling.
My money spent is,
And due my rent is.
My school decreasing,
My income ceasing.
All people tease me,
But no man pays me.
My worship is bit,
By that rogue Nisbit.
To take the right way,
Consult friend Whiteway.
Would you get still more?
Go flatter Kilmore.
Your geese are old,
Your wife a scold.
You live among ill
Folks in a dunghill.
You never have an
Old friend at Cavan.