Or a chop that was chopped from the chump,
Had’st thou ever an equal to Lucy,
My Magpie and Stump?
Ah! thy votaries flocked beyond number,
And worshipped full oft at thy shrine;
And we poured forth libations to slumber,
And we censed with tobacco divine;
And then haply some bibulous fellow
Would fall to the floor with a bump—
For thy potions were potently mellow,