Across the straits of Dover.
But, any way, it does seem rather funny
To lock a man within four walls, and bid him seek for money.
There's no occasion now for me to hide,
Tho' once I was a deeply versed court guide;
I fear not now a single rap,
Nor startle at a tap.
From my boot's sole to my hat crown,
I'll have it all set down;
As to my tailleur, his suit's a failure,