NOT a sou had he got—not a guinea or note,
And he looked confoundedly flurried
As he bolted away without paying his shot,
And the Landlady after him hurried.
We saw him again at dead of night,
When home from the club returning;
We twigged the Doctor beneath the light
Of the gas-lamp brilliantly burning.
All bare and exposed to the midnight dews,
Reclined in the gutter we found him;