Chapter I

Hear the postman with the bills--
Little bills!
What a secret misery the sight of them instils!
How they flutter, flutter, flutter
In their envelopes of blue,
While you open them and mutter,
In a whisper or a stutter,
“What the deuce am I to do?”
Thinking where, where, where
Is the money that shall square
Every paltry, petty item, that monotonously fills
Little bills, bills, bills, bills,
Bills, bills, bills?
Ah! those saddening little, maddening little bills!