A BALLADE OF ART COLLECTORS
Reading edition
Oh Lord! We are the covetous. Our neighbours' goods afflict us sore. From Frisco to the Bosphorus All sightly stuff, the less the more, We want it in our hoard and store. Nor sacrilege doth us appal— Egyptian vault—fane at Cawnpore— Collector folk are sinners all.
Our envoys plot in partibus. They've small regard for chancel door, Or Buddhist bolts contiguous To lustrous jade or gold galore Adorning idol squat or tall— These be strange gods that we adore— Collector folk are sinners all.
Of Romulus Augustulus The signet ring I proudly wore. Some rummaging in ossibus I most repentantly deplore. My taste has changed; I now explore The sepulchres of Senegal And seek the pots of Singapore— Collector folk are sinners all.
Lord! Crave my neighbour's wife! What for? I much prefer his crystal ball From far Cathay. Then, Lord, ignore Collector folk who're sinners all.