So get me a herring for tea.
Now he had not been gone an hour or more,
To Smithfield, and sold his donkey,
When a thought of the herring came into his head
I hope it’s a soft roe, said he—he—he—
I hope it’s a soft roe, said he.
* * * * *
(Three coarse verses omitted.)
Lord Faddle’s Election for Bosh.