The Squire on his cob,
Or Trudge and his ass at a tinkering job,
To the "Saint" who expounded at "Little Zion" -
Or the "Sinner" who kept the "Golden Lion" -
The man teetotally weaned from liquor -
The Beadle, the Clerk, or the Reverend Vicar -
Nay, the very Pie in its cage of wicker -
She gathered such meanings, double or single,
That like the bell,
With muffins to sell,
Her ear was kept in a constant tingle!

But this was nought to the tales of shame,
The constant runnings of evil fame,
Foul, and dirty, and black as ink,
That her ancient cronies, with nod and wink,
Poured in her horn like slops in a sink:
While sitting in conclave, as gossips do,
With their Hyson or Howqua, black or green,
And not a little of feline spleen,
Lapped up in "Catty packages," too,
To give a zest to the sipping and supping;
For still by some invisible tether,
Scandal and Tea are linked together,
As surely as Scarification and Cupping;
Yet never since Scandal drank Bohea -
Or sloe, or whatever it happened to be,
For some grocerly thieves
Turn over new leaves,
Without much mending their lives or their tea -