Boulogne! oh, Boulogne!
There’s nought like Boulogne, there’s nought like Boulogne.
I can laugh at all duns, bailiffs threaten in vain,
By Jove! they shan’t catch me on their side again.
By my wits I can manage to keep up the ball,
To be lagged for contempt would not suit me at all.
Boulogne! oh, Boulogne, &c.
Nutshell.
Rome, sweet Rome.