Intended to scorch up the whole Corporation:
All through you, dear Sir Christopher,
Who made such a fist of a
Gate in the twist of a
Narrow street-way, to be cursed at and hissed of a
Horse-steerer class of Her Majesty’s lieges
Who howled in the squeezes
With trenchant phrase hippic
And forceful philippic,
Like epics Satanic declaimed by some sham Milton