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,