Common sense had found access, at length, to his mind,
But he told me his dreams, talked as if he’d been drinking,
For he reads the D. T., and has long given up thinking.
“Then, said Punch to John Bull, ‘you take warning, J. B.,’
This Jingo’s a picture of what we might be.
But thanks to our friends for the care of our breeding,
Who warned us, betimes, the D. T. against reading.
Punch, 1880.
’Tis the voice of the glutton,