Has been making a Judy of himself, the poor unhappy cratur.
At his time of life, too! tare and ounds its mighty shocking!
He shoved ach of his big legs into a span bran new silk stocking:
How the divil them calves by any manes was thrust in,
Is a mistery to ev’ry one, without them black silks busting.
And instead of a dacent trousers hanging to his suspenders,
He has button’d-up one-half of him in a pair of short knee-enders.
Now, Punch, on your oath, did you ever hear the likes o’ that?
But oh, houly Paul, if you only seen his big cock’d hat,
Stuck up on the top of his jazy;—a mighty illegant thatch,