There we muster all a-row;
Where, secure from toil and trouble,
With a tuneful hubble-bubble,
Our symphonious accents flow.
Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash!
Bacchus. I forbid you to proceed.
Frogs. That would be severe, indeed,
Arbitrary, bold, and rash—
Brekeke-kesh, koash, koash!
Bacchus. I command you to desist—