Oft have I seen him, from the dawn of day,
E'en till the western sun went down the sky,
Lounging his lazy, listless hours away.
Each morn he sought the cloister's cool retreat;
At noon, at Tom's he caught the daily lie,
Or from his window looking o'er the street,
Would gaze upon the travellers passing by.
At night, encircled with a kindred band,
In smoke and ale rolled their dull lives away;
True as the College clock's unvarying hand,