HE shades of night had fallen (at

When from the Eagle Tavern pass'd

A youth, who bore, in manual vice,

A pot of something monstrous nice—

'X—X:' Haw haw!

His brow was bad:—his young eye scann'd

The frothing flaggon in his hand,

And like a gurgling streamlet sprung

The accents to that thirsty tongue,

X—X: Haw haw!

In happy homes he saw them grub

On stout, and oysters from a tub,—

The dismal gas-lights gleam'd without,

And from his lips escaped a shout,

"X—X: Haw haw!"

"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?

"X—X? Haw haw!"

"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;

"X—X? Haw haw!"

"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,

"X—X? Haw haw!"

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.—

X—X: Haw haw!!