He checks or urges on his steed;
Can this be one whose fame is spread
For deeds of rapine and of dread?
My Lord Dandelion
Placed his spy-glass his eye on,
Stared hard at the rider, and then exclaimed, “Well—ar—
’Tis weally so dark! but I think ’tis the fellar.”
While his worship the Mayor
Whispered, “O, look ye there!
That purse in his girdle, d’ye see it?—I twigged it;