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,