Classic Poem

Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes,
Nibble their toasts and cool their tea with sighs;
Or else forget the purpose of the night,
Forget their tea, forget their appetite.
See, with crossed arms they sit — Ah! hapless crew,
The fire is going out and no one rings
For coals, and therefore no coals Betty brings.
A fly is in the milk-pot — must he die
Circled by a Humane Society?
No, no; there, Mr Werter takes his spoon,
Inverts it, dips the handle, and lo! soon
The little struggler, saved from perils dark,
Across the teaboard draws a long wet mark.
Romeo! Arise! take snuffers by the handle,
There's a large cauliflower in each candle.
A winding-sheet — ah, me! I must away
To No. 7, just beyond the Circus gay.
" Alas, my friend, your coat sits very well;
Where may your tailor live?" " I may not tell.
O pardon me — I'm absent now and then.
Where might my tailor live? I say again
I cannot tell. Let me no more be teased —
He lives in Wapping, might live where he pleased."