Don't let Mrs. Tester hang about beside the porter's lodge,
I ain't a fool, you know, and I can penetrate that dodge.
She'll find my books and papers lying all about the floor,
Let her take 'em, they are hers, I shall never use 'em more;
But tell her, to console her, if she's mourning for my loss.
That she's quite the dirtiest bedmaker, I ever came across.
Good-night: you need not call me till the bell for service rings,
Through practice I am pretty quick at putting on my things;
But I would keep a Chapel upon my last New Year,
So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, Filcher dear.