To Fame when she’s backing a blade of the fist;
But Turner I’ve cleaned out, and Martin the baker
I’d very near put on the bankruptcy list.
“Then blame me not kids, swells, or lads of the fancy,
For opening a ‘lush crib’ in Chancery Lane,
An appropriate spot ’tis, you doubtless all can see,
Since ‘heads’ I have placed there, and let out again.
Farewell then, thou ring, whence I first drew my glory,
Farewell to Bill Gibbons—Tom Owen farewell;
And when to green-horns you’re telling some tight milling story,