For a rare old friend will accept a bill;
And, it's rather superfluous to say
That the Gull the bill will have to pay.
The Gull, to free him from human ills,
Will gulp down boxes of Holloway's pills;
And will rub his hair three times a-day
With stuff to prevent it from turning grey.
He is right; for, to give the stuff its due,
It turns the hair not grey but blue.
Oh, the Gull, in the course of his ev'ning walk,