John Huggins was as bold a man
As trade did ever know,
A warehouse good he had, that stood
Hard by the church of Bow.

There people bought Dutch cheeses round,
And single Glos'ter flat,--
And English butter in a lump,
And Irish--in a _pat_.

Six days a week beheld him stand,
His business next his heart,
At _counter_ with his apron tied
About his _counter-part_.

The seventh in a sluice-house box,
He took his pipe and pot;
On Sundays for _eel-pie_ty,
A very noted spot.

Huggins gets "Epping in his head," and resolves to go to "the Hunt."

Alas! there was no warning voice
To whisper in his ear,
Thou art a fool in leaving _Cheap_
To go and hunt the _deer_!

No thought he had of twisted spine,
Or broken arms or legs;