Who vow’d she ne’er would wed, to mar his riches;
Full often would she say of men demurely,—
“I can’t abide the filthy things in breeches!”
He had Apartments up two pair of stairs;
On the first floor lodge’d Doctor Crow;—
The Landlord was a torturer of hairs,
And made a grand display of wigs, below;
From the beau’s Brutus, to the parson’s grizzle:—
Over the door-way was his name;—’twas Twizzle.
Now, you must know,