'Twas a regulation bull's-eye—"'Tis a (something) Trap," I
swore —
"'Tis a Trap, and nothing more."
Glittering with the P. C. button, redolent of recent mutton,
(Fitting raiment for a glutton) was the garment which he
wore;
And his vast colossal figure, in the pride of manly vigour,
Looming larger, looming bigger, came betwixt me and the
door—
Cutting off my hopes of entrance to my home at number four—