Unconscious laughs, and plays the fool,
And by his side the prim old Maid
_Looks_ "welcome fun" and "who's afraid."
Behold, that happy ruddy face,
In which there seems no vacant place,
That could another joy impart,
For one laugh more would break his heart.
And, lo, behind! his sober Brother,
Striving in vain the laugh to smother.
That giggling Girl must burst outright,
For _Punch_ has now possess'd her quite.
While She, who ran to Chemist's shop
For life or death--here finds a stop:
Forgets for whom--for what--she ran,
And leaves to Heaven the bleeding man!
The Parish Beadle, gilded calf,
Lays by his terror, joins the laugh,
Permits poor souls, without offence,
To sell their fruit and count their pence,
And, as by humour grown insane,
Allows the boys to touch his cane!
Poor little Sweep true comfort quaffs,
Ceases to cry--and loudly laughs.
See! what a wondrous powerful spell
_Punch_ holds o'er Dustman and his bell;
And scolding Wife with clapper still--
The Landlord quits awhile his till,
While Pot-boy, busiest of the bunch,
Steals pence for self, and beer for _Punch_.
Look at that window, you may trace