And butt at each other, all eating and drinking,
The viands and wine disappearing like winking,
And then such a lot
As together had got!
Master Cabbage, the steward, who'd made a machine
To calculate with, and count noses,--I ween
The cleverest thing of the kind ever seen,--
Declared, when he'd made
By the said machine's aid,
Up, what's now called the "tottle" of those he surveyed,
There were just--how he proved it I cannot divine--
_Nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety and nine._
Exclusive of Him
Who, giant in limb,

And black as the crow they denominate _Jim_,
With a tail like a bull, and a head like a bear,
Stands forth at the window--and what holds he there,
Which he hugs with such care,
And pokes out in the air,
And grasps as its limbs from each other he'd tear?
Oh! grief and despair!
I vow and declare
It's Le Scroope's poor, dear, sweet, little, curly-wigged Heir!
Whom the nurse had forgot and left there in his chair,
Alternately sucking his thumb and his pear.

What words can express
The dismay and distress
Of Sir Guy, when he found what a terrible mess