Oh, “the castled crag of Drachenfels,”
With its slippery sides and flowery dells,
Is a very romantic sight for “swells”
Who leave the squares of Belgravia,
And during the autumn visit the Rhine,
With courier hirsute and footman fine,
Who are both eternally drinking wine,
Though the last “don’t like the flaviour.”
But Drachenfels was a different sight
On a dark, tempestuous winter’s night;