| 1820 | |
| A fig for ... | 1800 |
A fig for ...
| 1800 | |
| On his ... | 1827 |
On his ...
The text of 1837 returns to that of 1800.
| Our earth is no doubt made of excellent stuff, But her pulses beat slower and slower, The weather in Forty was cutting and rough, And then, as Heaven knows, the glass stood low enough, And now it is four degrees lower. |