Humbert D. Umperdinck sat on a wall
Till its property-value increase;
From on high, very blithe, looking down on us all:
Fat, round-cheeked, with a feeling of peace.
But a market-crash suddenly came, with a fall
In the value of bricks and of mortar;
‘I’m bereft! Woe! What worth has wall left?’ was his call:
‘Just a fraction of value it oughter!’
In despair and dismay his bank-balance was lost
(By the taxman and creditors plundered);
As well (rising relatively) living’s cost
Humbert’s ‘got-it-togetherness’ sundered.
He fell from Wall Street to the street, where he lies:
Now no magnate, but flea-magnet only.
No mansion, but box of cardboard, greets his eyes;
He is broken, and hollow, and lonely.
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