My Landlord Is Civil, But Dear As The D - L: Your Pockets Grow Empty With Nothing To Tempt Ye; The Wine Is So Sour, 'Twill Give You A Scour, The Beer And The Ale Are Mingled With Stale. The Veal Is Such Carrion, A Dog Would Be Weary On. All This I Have Felt, For I Live On A Smelt.