To think his lordship did not break his bones!
Then the crames and custard, and the beef and mustard,
All on the tombstones like a poultherer’s shop;
With lobsters and white-bait, and other swatemeats,
And wine and nagus, and Imparial Pop!
There was cakes and apples in all the Chapels,
With fine polonies, and rich, mellow pears.
Och! the Count Von Strogonoff, sure he got prog enough,
The sly ould divil, undernathe the stairs.
Then the cannons thunder’d, and the people wonder’d,