I wish that I could do the same. All day
I’ve worked right hard, yet sleep I cannot woo;
Oh! how I wish the weary night were through.
As he speaks, a form clad in large sheets of newspaper is seen stealing from the neighbouring copse, and sinking on its knees on the gravel before Mr. Gladstone’s window, plaintively sings:—
People’s William, do not start,
Nor reply in accents tart;
See thy “Telly” kneel in pain,
Vowing thee to serve again;
See, and say before I go—
Is it all made up or no?