The evening sun was sinking fast;
I sat me down in sorry mood,
And darkly look'd upon the food.
Dyspepsia!
My happy comrades' bright eyes beam'd,
And o'er the steaming potage gleam'd;
Alas! not mine to find relief
In whitebait's flavour bright and brief.
Dyspepsia!
"Try not the duck," my conscience said;