When lo! a something with a tail of flame
Made him exclaim,
“My stars!”—he always put that stress on my—
“My stars and garters!”
“A comet, sure as I’m alive!
A noble one as I should wish to view;
It can’t be Halley’s though, that is not due
Till eighteen thirty-five.
Magnificent!—how fine his fiery trail!
Zounds! ’tis a pity, though he comes unsought—