-THE STAR OF PICCADILLY' 225 



On Richmond's sunny bank there grew 

 'Midst violets sweet, a wanton yew, 

 Crabbed and old ; and that mourns " Q," 



The star of Piccadilly. 

 ' The Monsieurs and Signoras too, 

 Like cats in love set up their mew, 

 " Ah morto, morto, pov'ro ' Q ' ! 



The star of Piccadilly." 



' Townshends, Macmanus, all the hue 

 And cry of Bow Street, each purlieu, 

 Each little corner, wants its " Q " ; 

 The star of Piccadilly. 



' Poll, Peggy, Cath'rine, Patty, Sue, 

 Descendants of old dames he knew. 

 All mourn your tutor, ancient " Q," 

 The star of Piccadilly. 



' Old Nick he whisked his tail so blue. 

 And grinn'd, and leer'd, and look'd askew — 

 " Oho ! " says he, " I 've got my ' Q,' 

 The star of Piccadilly." 



' On wings of sulphur down he flew ; 

 All London take your last adieu. 

 There, there away he claws " Old Q," 

 The star of Piccadilly. 



' And now this may be said of " Q," 

 That long he ran all Folly thro', 

 For ever seeking something new : 

 He never cared for me, nor you. 

 But, to engagements strictly true, 

 At last he gave the Devil his due ; 

 And died a boy — at eighty-two — 

 Poor "Q" of Piccadilly.' 

 P 



