Classic Poem

" These beer shops, " quoth Barnabas, speaking in alt,
" Are ruinous — down with the growers of malt! "
" Too true, " answers Ben, with a shake of the head,
" Wherever they congregate, honesty's dead
That beer breeds dishonesty causes no wonder,
'Tis nurtured in crime — 'tis concocted in plunder;
In Kent, while surrounded by flourishing crops,
I saw a rogue picking a pocket of hops. "