I’m as kind to each beau in his brand new chapeau,
Who sports not his silk or his gamp,
My delight is to fall at a fancy dress ball,
And I love to extinguish a lamp.
And whenever a fellow leaves at home his umbrella
Oh, my! how I chuckle and grin,
For then you may warrant I’ll come down a torrent
And soak the poor wretch to the skin.
The other Cloud.