Oh, curses on ye, spongy tribe! Ye cruffins and ye mumpets!
I must be mad! I mean to say ye muffins and ye crumpets!
Then came a chill like Wenham ice; then hot as hottest steam;
I could not move a single limb! I could not even scream!
You pauper brat, remember that—all this was but a dream!”
The boy gazed on his troubled brow, from which big drops were oozing,
And for the moment all respect for his dread function losing,
Made this remark, “Well, blow me tight, our Beadle’s been a-boozing!”
That very week, before the beak, they brought that beadle burly;
He pleaded guilty in a tone dyspeptically surly,