Thus amusement and exercise fall in your way,
For you’re scratching all night, and you’re scrubbing all day.
XII.
In the streets oft you meet a queer stick of a fellow,
Who pokes in your eye his sharp-pointed umbrella;
But the measure of danger is scarcely half full,
When a flow’r-pot dropt down, breaks itself and your scull.
XIII.
If in London the doctors should shorten life’s date,
To lie long in the grave’s, not the dead bodies fate;