Yum-yum,[29]—if I have failed to understand
The tons, and guns, and “ends,” whereof they brawl,
At me, at least, can no man paint the hand,
For hypothetical
Purely, is all I state.
Yum-yum—if any man has starved the Fleet,
If any man has his head punched for this,
Kicked by a million boots along the street,
That sight I would not miss,
Nay, nor arrive too late!