Two Sally Luns and a crumpet.
“I don't like brown sugar,” said he.
“If you don't,” thought the lad, “you may lump it.”
To crown this delightful regale,
Waiter! your stumps, jolly boy, stir;
A crown's worth of oysters and ale,
Ere we give the sail homeward a hoister!”
“Of ale in a boiling-hot vat,
My dear daddy dropp'd, and was, Ah! boil'd.”
“A drop I can't relish of that