And quit the Bridge of Waterloo
With header swift and suicidal.

I will not seek--as others seek--
Some public-house in mean and _low_ street,
And drink--till haled before the Beak
Who patiently presides at Bow Street.
I will not throw--as others throw--
My manly form, without compunction,
Before the frequent trains that go
At lightning speed through Clapham Junction.

For though my spirit seeks escape
From all the carking cares that vex it,
I will not plunge thee into crape
By any ordinary exit:
So when--in slang--I "take my hook,"
Detesting all that's mean and skimpy, a
Reserved and numbered seat I'll book,
And hie to Venice at Olympia.

I'll see the Show that draws the town--
Its pageantry delight affording--
As per the details noted down
Where posters flame on every hoarding;
And then the sixpence I will pay,
Which in my pocket now I'm fondling,
And try upon the water-way
The new experience of gondling.