And with his ochre red and black,
Drew a fierce face upon my back,
The thought, at least, was not quite civil,
With all the emblems of the devil.
He had display'd his humour's art
Upon a very tender part,
At least, my pride, as you must know,
Had to my fancy made it so.
When, by the roar caus'd by the joke,
I from the slumb'ring fit awoke;