Classic Poem

“Of all the ploody liars o' the 'orld
Since Ananias' soul was sent to Hell
Aye; since rebel angels to its depths were hurl'd
This is the rankest lie e'er I heard tell!
You rascally, beggarly, scald, pragging knave
You prove yourself a liar and a fool
Lacking th' agility thy face to save
Thy lie thy headsmen is in place of tool!
You scurvy, lousy knave, do you not see
That when you lie you must not be found out.
Whereas your lie 's a lie so palpably
'Twould disgrace th' invention of a butcher's lout.
Pshaw! For liar, praggart, and Got tam't cad
Shaw preaks the record, and preaks it tam bad.”