Such peals of thunder as rumbled at Lear,
To turn the smallest of table-beer,
A little whisper breathed into the ear
Will sour a temper "as sour as varges,"
In fact such very ill blood there grew,
From this private circulation of stories,
That the nearest neighbors the village through,
Look'd at each other as yellow and blue,
As any electioneering crew
Wearing the colors of Whigs and Tories.