A S.S.T.'s Lament: Poem by Joseph Furphy

Would I were a profit monger,
Buying cheap, and selling dear,
Groceries, or something stronger,
Toys, or pipes, or sporting gear,
Wrong, maybe, but ain't it wronger
That I should be stranded here,
While my upper lip grow longer,
Month by month, and year by year?

Analysis of this poem