As for the Hangman, make a pother,
As if you'd found a long-lost brother:
Some pledge of kindness give the Mayor,
If but a ringlet of your hair!
Thus, to the last, the gallows grace,
And none shall say, you've "lost your place."
—————
Thus far our Dean,—but happier times
Now wait on bolder, deadlier crimes,
When wisdom mourns o'er wise restraints,