Boniface listen'd, bolt upright in bed,
To the cock-and-bull story of hangman and head;
And then caught the mountebank, snug on his back,
Holding his sides, which were ready to crack!
Loud laugh'd the landlord at Harlequin's trick.
“As soon,” cry'd the farmer, “I'd sup with Old Nick,
As sleep in this room with that gibbetting wag,
With a head on his shoulders, and one in his bag!”
“Bravo, Nestor!” said the Lauréat of Little Britain; “Norah Noclack (as the taciturn old lady has grown musical) will draw thee a cup of ale for thy ditty, and make thee free of the buttery.”