I’d like to be a philanthropic artist,

inspiring with a democratisating flourish,

but I have to eat,

I have to sleep,

I have to pay the master,

for all the consumption I’m after,

so here’s some wares,

if you can bare,

to spare your cares,

maybe bung me a groat,

down my metaphorical throat,

I’d be grateful for coin in hat,

and I’d do a lot, but I won’t do that.

will you buy my pies?

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