Are the tricks which they play, and the bon mots they tell.
There a bevy of noodles, by puffing extreme,[111]
Are tempted to muster in numerous throng;
They’re off to Vauxhall, where they drink, dance, and scream,
And fancy they come it exceedingly strong.
Vauxhall’s Great Bal Masqué I ne’er can forget;
And oft when alone, at the close of the year,
I think, are the vagabonds dancing there yet?
Are they still at their brandy and water, and beer?
Punch, 1844.