With laughter forced and words of bitterness,
Which overwhelms the outcasts deep-drawn sigh,
As the pale moon breaks through the sombre-clouded sky.
And this in London! in the very street
Which speaks the grandeur of the wealthy west!
’Tis here debauchery and riot meet;
’Tis here each night, when purity’s at rest,
There rages rampantly that moral pest
That saps our city’s health and blasts her name,
And steals the reputation she posses’t,