Thus you feather your nest
In the way you like best,
And live high without fear of mishap, sir;
You are fond of your grub,
Have a taste for some shrub,
And for gin—there you understand trap, sir.
Tho’ the rivers won’t flow
In the frost and the snow,
And for fish other folks vainly try, sir;
Yet you’ll have a treat,
For, in cold or in heat,
You can still take a perch with a fly, sir.
In love, too, oh Dick,
(Tho’ you oft when love-sick
On the course of good-breeding may trample;
And though often henpeck’d,
Yet) you scorn to neglect
To set all mankind an eggsample.
Your opinions, ’tis true,
Are flighty a few,
But at this I, for one, will not grumble;
So—your breakfast you’ve got,
And you’re off like a shot,
Dear Dicky, your humble cum tumble.[87]
[87] Examiner Feb. 12, 1815.
Hut. Alderson, Bellman of Durham.