Party Folk

Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes, Nibble their toast, and cool their tea with sighs, Or else forget the purpose of the night, Forget their tea -- forget their appetite. See with cross'd arms they sit -- ah! happy crew, The fire is going out and no one rings For coals, and therefore no coals Betty brings. A fly is in the milk-pot -- must he die By a humane society? No, no; there Mr. Werter takes his spoon, Inserts it, dips the handle, and lo! soon The little straggler, sav'd from perils dark, Across the teaboard draws a long wet mark. Arise! take snuffers by the handle, There's a large cauliflower in each candle. A winding-sheet, ah me! I must away To No. 7, just beyond the circus gay. 'Alas, my friend! your coat sits very well; Where may your tailor live?' 'I may not tell. O pardon me -- I'm absent now and then. Where might my tailor live? I say again I cannot tell, let me no more be teaz'd -- He lives in Wapping, might live where he pleas'd.'