For cold and swift as an ocean wave,
The chaff of Burnand swept o'er him.
And vainly he turn'd, sore at heart and sick,
Some hope from the "Johnnies" to borrow;
For they steadfastly sucked every one his stick,
And most bitterly thought of the morrow.
They thought, as the dramatist chaffed them to death,
And foreshadowed their doom so plainly,
That they next morning, with feverish breath,
Might demand devilled prawns all vainly;