Like Monsieur Corkscrew worming thro’ a Cork;

Not straight, like Corkscrew’s proxy, stiff Don Prong,

A Fork.

At length, with near four bottles in his pate,

He saw the moon shining on Shove’s brass plate;

When reading, “Please to ring the bell,”

And being civil, beyond measure,

“Ring it!”—says Toby—“very well;

I’ll ring it with a deal of pleasure.”

Toby, the kindest soul in all the town,