Drawn stiff and old-fashioned, by Stothard. On one on 'em though, I was nuts,
Musi—— somethink or other I fancy. But as to the cackle, Great Scott!—
"The sun rolling bounteous from Aries," and reams o' such molly slop rot.
Now if Jemmy 'ad sung of our Season, not Nature's old merry-go-round,
But London's pertikler, for swells, it 'ud suit me right down to the ground.
But as Jemmy has shirked it for tosh on "ethereal mildness," and such,
Wy 'Arry must 'ave a cut in, and all London is fly to his touch.
Wot a Summer we're 'aving this Season! All Nature seems trim and in tune;
Ripe strorberries picked out o' doors, though we've 'ardly yet dropped into June;
The parks jest like bloomin' peraries, the water supply going queer,