And ’neath the whitening plaster on my cheeks,
The flush of last night’s lushing disappears.
Yon house erected on a rising ground,
(A serious maiden lady’s snug abode)
I visited, and there with depth profound,
A touch of first-rate pantomime I showed.
But, ah! how merit in this world gets stopp’d!
Just as to groan and shiver I’d begun—
A pamper’d peeler round the corner popp’d,
And made me shoulder up my crutch and run.