He boasted his size he could quickly attain.
Oh, the Roast Beef of Old England,
And O for Old England’s Roast Beef.
Then eagerly stretching his weak little frame;
Mamma, who stood by, like a cunning old dame.
Cried, “Son, to attempt it you’re surely to blame,”
Oh, the Roast Beef, &c.
But, deaf to advice, he for glory did thirst,
An effort he ventured more strong than the first,
Till swelling and straining too hard made him burst.