Something worse than all these evils now has come.
Who is this most dreary driveller, rowdy ranter, prating poet?
Whence comes all this filthy flood of nasty rhyme?
See the tongue that talked of truth so steeped in lies that none may know it;
See the man of poesy besmeared with slime.
Quarrelling cats upon your housetop, cocks and hens in your back garden.
Dogs that in the silent midnight bay the moon,
Next-door neighbour’s cracked piano, wild excursionists to Hawarden,
Are a sweet relief compared with this man’s tune.
Perfect nonsense, utter rubbish, everlasting shameless drivel,