Dozing, with head-aches, till the afternoon,

Lose half men’s regular estate of Sun,

By borrowing, too largely, of the Moon.

One of this kidney,—Toby Tosspot hight,—

Was coming from the Bedford, late at night:

And being Bacchi plenus,—full of wine,—

Although he had a tolerable notion

Of aiming at progressive motion,

’Twasn’t direct,—’twas serpentine,

He work’d, with sinuosities, along,