“One, in three draughts, three mugs of ale took down,
As mugs were then - the champion of the Crown;
For thrice three days another lived on ale,
And knew no change but that of mild and stale;
Two thirsty soakers watch’d a vessel’s side,
When he the tap, with dext’rous hand, applied;
Nor from their seats departed, till they found
That butt was out and heard the mournful sound.”
He praised a poacher, precious child of fun!
Who shot the keeper with his own spring gun;