Is when surrounded by slates, books, and boys.
Poor Reuben Dixon has the noisiest school
Of ragged lads, who ever bow’d to rule;
Low in his price - the men who heave our coals,
And clean our causeways, send him boys in shoals;
To see poor Reuben, with his fry beside, -
Their half-check’d rudeness and his half-scorn’d pride, -
Their room, the sty in which th’ assembly meet,
In the close lane behind the Northgate-street;
T’observe his vain attempts to keep the peace,