Sam with his trumpet blew a rally,
And Hip, Hurrah! cried ancient Sally.
Long live both empty hives and full,
Long live Dick Dean and Johnny Dull.
Fytte X. The Queen Bee's Fete.
The night is warm, and many a nose
Upturned, is snoring in repose;
Whilst every tree and every flower
Rejoices in that witching hour.
And o'er John Dull his garden beds,
The moon her gentle influence sheds.