For supper’s joys—the guests were glum,
And deep as thunder was the hum
Of thousands polking sullenly.
But Crockford’s saw another sight,
When rang the bell at dead of night,
Commanding streams of gas to light
Her supper-room’s gay scenery.
In Hart’s and Nathan’s costumes lent,
Each polkeuse chose some visor’d Gent,
And eagerly the cash was spent,