Slamm’d the street door in Toby’s face,

With all his might;

And Toby, as he shut it, swore

He was a dirty son of—something more

Than delicacy suffers me to write:

And, lifting up the knocker, gave a knock,

So long, and loud, it might have raise’d the dead;

Twizzle declares his house sustain’d a shock,

Enough to shake his lodgers out of bed.

Toby, his rage thus vented in the rap,