Dumped the clock and dumped the mirror,
Feeling very much like Sinbad
When at last he’d dumped the old man
Who had ridden on his shoulders.
“Nearly five,” said Tiadatha,
“And the dawn will soon be breaking.
Percy, I am sick and weary,
And my eyes are full of cinders,
And my tongue as dry as Aden—
What about a rest, old sportsman?”