Last, we have the naughtiest of swells—
Howling swells!
Each, in larks nocturnal, both our other friends excels,
Thinking nought of getting “tight,”
Screeching out in wild delight
In the “startled eve of night”
Tavern melodies, despite
The warning of the much-disgusted “p’lice,”
Making rows, rows, rows,
Imitating small bow-wows,