Then he recognises sadly there are others come, like he,
To make merry with the “fizz,” and likewise quaff the “S. and B.”
He is growing old and weary, having just turned twenty-three,
Existence is so tedious, all “life” a vast ennui
To the fine young London gentleman,
Quite of the present style.
Punch. February 11, 1882.
A Fine Old English General.
I’ll sing you a good old song,