"Come down," says he, "you Newgate-bird,
And have a taste of my snaps!"—
IV.
Then down the rope, like a tar from the mast,
I slided, and by him stood:
But I wish'd myself on the gallows again
When I smelt that beggar's food,—
A foul beef bone and a mouldy crust;—
"Oh!" quoth he, "the heavens are good!"
V.