A votary of Bacchus!
“A nice quintette! The more I look
I seem to grow the sicker;
Two elephants—two more in rags—
The fifth, he is in liquor!
“But Mr. Partridge, he will see
These wrongs are not repeated—”
’Twas wasting words, for with a frown
The ’Bus Conductor knocked me down,
And cried. “Now you are seated!”