When, with quite a storm of croaking, as though Dis himself invoking,
And apparently half choking, in it rushed old “Never more!”—
Right into the cage of wicker quickly popped old “Never more!”
And I smartly shut the door.
Then without the least compunction, booking to St. John’s Wood Junction,
To the “Zoo” my cage of wicker and its sable bird I bore.
Saw the excellent Curator, showed him the persistent prater—
Now in manner much sedater—and said, “Take him, I implore!
He’s a nuisance in my study, take him, Bartlett, I implore!”
And he answered, “Hand him o’er.”