A look of pain was in his face, a pucker on his brow,
Long time he pondered very hard to try and find out how.
At last he cried, "Eureka! from France I'll go and bring them,
And into beds I've got at home without a murmur fling them."

Then they came across the Channel, and he very sweetly said,
"So glad to see you looking well, would you like to see your bed?
For there, my little dears, you stay; you'll one day know the reason.
I'll rouse you when the month of May makes natives out of season."

The Fishmongers, the Worshipful, sent down a man to see,
He wrung his hands and shook his head, and said, "Oh, miseree!
It pains me very deeply, and it drives me to distraction,
You've done what's wrong, and I shall have to institute an action."

Then WILLIAMSON, he sobbed aloud, and shed a bitter tear,
"Oh, hang it all," he cried, "why _must_ you come and interfere?
I quite admit, however, that I see your point precisely,
So don't let's quarrel, let's be friends, and bring the action nicely."

They brought that friendly action, and the clever counsel tried
To prove to FAUDELL PHILLIPS that the law was on his side.
But the oyster-dealer found the law for him was one too many,
So he had to pay the piper--to be quite exact, a penny.

And you who love your oyster in the latter end of May,
In June, July, and August, too, will sadly rue the day,
For philanthropic folk will find it unremunerative
To introduce in summer-time this Franco-English native.[1]