A dozen for a groat.
The play was o’er, the people throng’d;
Yet fear’d he nought, howe’er he long’d
In Ocean’s sand to delve:
But now a Captain of the Blues
Dropt in at Arthur’s to carouse,
And call’d for oysters twelve.
The word went out, the knife went in;
Our Oyster naked to the skin
Was brought upon a plate: