And dost think me undone
With a clamour no bigger
Than a maiden’s first snigger?
But strike up a tune
[To Chorus.
He’ll not forget soon
Of our croak! croak! croak!
Chorus (with discordant crash of music). Croak! croak! croak!
Bacchus.I’m cinder, I’m coke!
I have got my death-stroke.