Whence,—for the spoon was one of Mappin’s make,—
He went back richer by a good round sum,
Nor told to anyone his shameless sin.
(Attributed to Mr. T. H. S. Escott, afterwards Editor of the Fortnightly Review.)
From College Rhymes. Oxford, 1873.
At the Inventions.
Hey diddle diddle,
Piano and fiddle,
The fountains sprang up towards the moon,