And—send me some rum, there’s a brick!”
Scoad.
A very Dry Tale.
(To the air of the ‘Precocious Baby.’)
A monarch of Burmah, I cannot tell why,
With his sips and ‘nips’
For his parched-up lips,
Was plagued with a throat so excessively dry,
’Twas useless to try
To ‘wet t’other eye,’