Monies have I spent on friv'lous things

Monies have I spent on friv'lous things,
My purse-strings loosened less for good than play,
While I was led astry with worldly stuff,
Soon enough my Pants cried in dismay.

Oh, grave, unsmiling God of Pants, damn you!
You who watch o'er dogs of pants so pure,
Sure to keep ears safe and clean at night,
Could incite a pricey pain to cure.

And now my Pants is sad and drunk at home.
And Moaning in his torment stares me down
With brown sad eyes--momma! take away the hurt!
But now because of him I'm poor as dirt.