The alderman from Guildhall has gone
In the coffee tavern you’ll find him,
The temperance badge he has girded on,
And his old port chucked behind him.
“Cold water pure!” sang the civic knight,
“Though tipplers all deride thee,
No other drink will I touch to-night,
Though the teapot stands beside thee!”
The alderman fell! ’twas not champagne,
But turtle, that brought him under