Of Popsy, Mopsy, Bergamotte, and Civet,
Of breeder, trainer, owner, backer, hedger,
And nags as right, or righter than a trivet,
The theme his crack’d attention could not rivet,
Though leaning forward to the man of whips,
He seem’d to give an ear,—but did not give it,
For Ellen’s moon (that saddest of her slips)
Would not be hidden by a “new Eclipse.”
THE HEAD WAITER AT HATCHETT’S.