Fierce pours the shower—their pores are stopped instead,
The more they cry come up—the rain comes down!
Now, you may see, by every sorry face,
The water party wails its wretched doom,
And in that cart—that wends with lingering pace,
Altho' there's little room, there's lots of rheum!
17. Metropolitan Police Bill passed.
The bill has pass'd, the sharpest bill of latter days,
Gin shops must close by twelve o'clock o' Saturdays;
And lively landlords now, whate'er their merits,