Classic Poem

Who would think, herein to look,
That from these exiguous bounds,
I have dug a printed book
And a cheque for twenty pounds?
Thus do those who trust the Lord
Go rejoicing on their way
And receive a great reward
For having been so kind as lay.

Had the fun of the voyage
Had the sport of the boats
Who could have hoped in addition
The pleasure of fing'ring the notes?

Yes, sir, I wrote the book; I own the fact;
It was perhaps, sir, an unworthy act.
Have you perused it, sir?—You have?—indeed!
Then between you and me there no debate is.
I did a silly act, but I was fee'd;
You did a sillier, and you did it gratis!