Like a teetotum seeming to spin him,
With sneers never hitherto sneered.
“Avengement,” they cry, “on our Foelet!
Let the Manikin weep for our wrongs!
Let us drench him, from toplet to toelet,
With Nursery-Songs!
‘HIS SOUL SHALL BE SAD FOR THE SPIDER’
“He shall muse upon ‘Hey! Diddle! Diddle!’
On the Cow that surmounted the Moon: