Fresh bumpers and immense cheering.
Silence being in a measure restored, Zoroaster claimed Turpin's promise of a song.
"True, true," replied Dick; "I have not forgotten it. Stand to your bows, my hearties."
THE GAME OF HIGH TOBY
Now Oliver[78] puts his black nightcap on,
And every star its glim[79] is hiding,
And forth to the heath is the scampsman[80] gone,
His matchless cherry-black[81] prancer riding;
Merrily over the common he flies,
Fast and free as the rush of rocket,
His crape-covered vizard drawn over his eyes,
His tol[82] by his side, and his pops[83] in his pocket.
CHORUS
Then who can name
So merry a game,
As the game of all games—high toby?[84]
The traveller hears him, away! away!
Over the wide wide heath he scurries;
He heeds not the thunderbolt summons to stay,
But ever the faster and faster he hurries.
But what daisy-cutter can match that black tit?
He is caught—he must "stand and deliver;"
Then out with the dummy[85], and off with the bit,[86]
Oh! the game of high toby for ever!
CHORUS
Then who can name
So merry a game,
As the game of all games—high toby?