Author Christopher Smart There was a jovial butcher, He liv'd at Northern-fall-gate, He kept a stall At Leadenhall, And got drunk at the Boy at Aldgate. He ran down Houndsditch reeling, At Bedlam he was frighted, He in Moorfields Be sh ā t his heels And at Hoxton he was wiped. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments