html website builder

A crooked little thoroughfare,
Narrow, short and dark;
My name is sounded everywhere,
The Nation’s money mart.


My ways are deep and intricate,
And ‘oft are filled with woe;
Despair and crime doth inspire
And virtue overthrow.


Beginning at a graveyard gate,
I finish at a river,
Where many overwhelmed by fate,
Have buried care forever.