And wilt thou never now explain
Thy base attack on Mr. Swain?
Shall the old nag now munch his meals,
Nor feel thee biting at his heels?
At football shalt thou ne’er be found,
Snuffing at every inch of ground
Along those touch-lines, where we know
Thou found’st a mouse long years ago?
Never in court shall we now pass
Thy sturdy figure on the grass,