by Cholmondeley-Pennell ( Parody of 'Excelsior' By Longfellow ) The shades of night had fallen (at last) When from the Eagle Tavern passed A youth, who bore, in manual vice A pot of something monstrous nice, XX - oh lor! His brow was bad - his young eye scanned The frothing flagon in his hand And like a gurgling streamlet sprung The accents to that thirsty tongue, XX - oh lor! In happy homes he saw them grub On stout, and oysters from a tub The dismal gaslight gleamed without And from his lips escaped a shout, XX - oh lor! “Young man,” the Sage observed, “Just stay And let me dip my beak, I say The pewter is deep and I am dry Perceiv’st thou verdure in my eye? XX - oh lor! “Oh stop,” the maiden cried, “And lend Thy beery burden here, my friend -” Th’ unbidden tear regretful rose But still his thumb-tip sought his nose, XX - oh lor! “Beware the gutter at thy feet Beware the dragons of the street Beware lest thirsty Bob you meet!” This was the ultimate remark A voice replied far thro’ the dark, XX - oh lor! That night, by watchmen on their round The person in a ditch was found Still grasping in his manual vice That pot - once fill’d with something nice, XX - oh lor!
The end