The Ingoldsby Legends or, Mirth and Marvels. By Thomas Ingoldsby [i.e. R. H. Barham] |
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 | The Ingoldsby Legends |  |
The clock strikes Twelve—it is dark midnight—
Yet the Magpie and Stump is one blaze of light.
The parties are met;
The tables are set;
There is “punch,” “cold without,” “hot with” “heavy wet,”
Ale-glasses and jugs,
And rummers and mugs,
And sand on the floor, without carpets or rugs,
Cold fowl and cigars,
Pickled onions in jars,
Welsh rabbits and kidneys—rare work for the jaws!—
And very large lobsters, with very large claws;
And there is M`Fuze,
And Lieutenant Tregooze,
And there is Sir Carnaby Jenks of the Blues,
All come to see a man “die in his shoes!”
Yet the Magpie and Stump is one blaze of light.
The parties are met;
The tables are set;
There is “punch,” “cold without,” “hot with” “heavy wet,”
Ale-glasses and jugs,
And rummers and mugs,
And sand on the floor, without carpets or rugs,
Cold fowl and cigars,
Pickled onions in jars,
Welsh rabbits and kidneys—rare work for the jaws!—
And very large lobsters, with very large claws;
And there is M`Fuze,
And Lieutenant Tregooze,
And there is Sir Carnaby Jenks of the Blues,
All come to see a man “die in his shoes!”
| The Ingoldsby Legends | |