(Another parody of Eliza Cook,)
That gridiron by the mantel-piece,
Its look gives every nerve a thrill;
That thing of home begrimed with grease,
Whereon our sprats we learn’d to grill.
November—month to childhood dear,
Old month of Civic feasts and sights,
To see that gridiron so near,
Fills my sad heart with home delights.
November—I remember well