English poem
Iii
by John Stephen Farmer (1854–1916)
As we were roaring forth a catch, ('Twas twelve o'clock) we wak'd the watch, I at his jazy made a snatch, And try'd for to nab his rattle! But I miss'd my aim and down I fell, And then he charg'd both me and Nell, And bundled us both to St. Martin's cell Where we sung fal de ral tit, etc.