At length Joe rises, and prepares

At length Joe rises, and prepares For the forthcoming day, Fresh as a rose, and full of airs,— In sooth, quite prim and gay, With the exception of a hat; So he plung’d in the street, Found out a shop, and righted that: Thus made himself complete— Whilst, on his countenance, a smile Told plainly how he prized his “tile.” As this was all Joe’s broken cash, Nought better he desired,— Quite good enough, he thought, to smash, And so, replete attired, Went back and ordered breakfast in; Reclined upon the chair; Made up his mind not to be mean, Now all seem’d—straight and fair. * * * To breakfast; but, so hearty, Joe Soon rang the bell again. The waiter he came in tip-toe: Said Joe, in language plain— “Dost thou call this a breakfast, John?” (With a derisive laugh.)— “Bring in another steak well done; For this I call but half * * * No wonder Londoners look pale, And look so mighty thin,— I s’pose ye chiefly live on ale, Or what ye sell for gin.” Obey’d, and satisfied to full, He ’t once sought for his cash: But lo—’twas gone!——a tedious lull: Joe’s teeth began to clash. He’d hair scarce none, tho’ h’ seem’d to have Abundance on his pate. Now, he exclaimed upon the knave; Then, murmur’d o’er his fate. (Oh! ’twas a piteous sight to see So brave a man in misery— Confused, confounded, as was he.)