Another attempt runs thus:—
I went a hunting on the plains,
The plains of Timbuctoo;
I shot one buck for all my pains,
And he was a slim buck too.
An unattainable rhyme might be sought for Euxine, had not Byron said—
——Euxine,
The dirtiest little sea that mortal ever pukes in.
The following is from Tom Moore’s Fudge Family in Paris:—
Take instead of rope, pistol, or dagger, a