To sail amongst applauding frogs,
With water-rats, dead cats and dogs.
The boat so leaky is, and old,
That if you’re fanciful and merry,
You may conceive, without being told,
That it resembles Charon’s wherry.
A turret also you may note,
Its glory vanish’d like a dream,
Transform’d into a pigeon-coat,
Nodding beside the sleepy stream.