To decide whether I, who was once quite a saint,
Should be put, as the doctors say, under restraint.
I intend to go there in the midst of a trance.
And, may I be boiled, but I'll lead them a dance!
It's a terrible thing, when to virtue inclined.
That some vile Mesmeriser debauches your mind;
When awake I recoil from the things that I've done,
Such as scrunching the poor little mussels for fun.
In these fetters hypnotic a foe holds me fast,
And you'll find that they'll hang me, in seaweed, at last.