Historical Muse! are you sober?
Is he, the old Mail-guard, alive,
Who probably swigged sound October
From flagons, in One, Eight, Three, Five?
When PILCH went a-slogging, and CLARKE
Was a-studying slow underhand lobs?
Hooray for that evergreen spark,
The veteran Guard, MOSES NOBBS![1]
Why, MOSES, thus bring to a close
Your fifty-six years on the road?