Inclined to the tip of his nose;
When it rests on the side of his head, he
Will smile at whatever befalls,
When pushed o'er his brow, we make ready
For numerous squalls!
When he starts for his train to the City
It is put on exactly upright,
And who would not view it with pity
Return, mud-bespattered, at night?
When early, so polished and glowing,