We waited long weeks for his crown,
When early one morning we heard, without warning
He’d quickly and darkly left town.
A check ’twas that threw him, became his undoing
With Winchester’s creme de la creme.
There was weeping and wailing and very much railing;
“His likes just had never been seen.”
Now when tea-pots were boiling; the mesdames were spoiling
To square themselves—and not to squirm;
With demoiselles mustered round tea cups they blustered: