At morn, when tea and toast appear,
And to the table all draw near,
What gives a zest to welcome cheer?
The Paper.
In vain the urn is hissing hot,
In vain rich Hyson stores the pot,
If the vile newsman has forgot
The Paper.
What is’t can draw the Vicar’s eye,
Ee’n from the tithe-pig smoking by,