His Grecian, who was whacking one that snored.
The while with pencil—aluminium gold—
He something seemed to write. Muggins grew bold,
And to the Grecian standing by his bed
He cried, “What writest thou?” He raised his head,
And answered, while a shoe at him he threw,
“The names of those who’ve paid up for the Blue!”
“And is mine one?” said Muggins. “Nay, not so,”
Replied the Grecian. Muggins whistled low,
And in his—night shirt—sleeve he chuckled, saying,