At Kensington church, it began to come down;
The post-boys were whipping,
The post-horses slipping,
The Halls were quite dripping
At Hammersmith Gate;
On we went dashing,
And squashing and splashing,
Till after this fashion
We got to the Fete."
Then there's a verse wanton, which of course I can't remember; but the Bow-street officers were all round the dore, and they looked to me as little like Bows as they did like officers; however, there was a large poodle to get over, and I heard them bid me wait till they sent for a Plank, which turned out to be a humane cretur, the head of the Pelisse. We had no umberellars, only our parisoles; but we got into a long tent, and there Fulmer told me I had better make my election to stay, because I was favoured both by the canvas and the pole; which I do not understand, but he put it all in rhyme about a "hujus encampment," something you know, I don't quite remember, to "keep off the damp meant;" and then he praised the bootiful cretures what was a setting in the mud under the yawning, which cood not get out, and called them the most elegant flowers and fruits of the day.