III.
At night, half seas over, returning from club,
You run foul of a nightman, and his nose-gay tub;
And a jordan perhaps, on your noddle may split,
So before you get home, you’re bepiss’d or be-s—t!
IV.
In the country to see us would do your hearts good,
Such pieces we push at, of pure flesh and blood;
Take a flyer in town, ’tis a hot butter’d bun,
And you’re certain to pay thro’ your nose for the fun.