You’re the King’s Own, said Redding.
Campbell rose, and with voice so sweet,
Gentlemen all, said Campbell,
I’ll give you fifteen guineas a sheet
For your tales and politics—gammon and spinage
So you ought to write well, said Campbell.
I mean to be independent quite,—
The devil you do? said Roscoe.
I begin to think it’s nothing but right,
And better than puffing, gammon and spinage,