AND THE MONKEY. 167 
Her coming much increased the joke, 
For folks kept joking at her, 
But she, no matter for her smoke— 
She came to smoke the matter. 
A Dandy also, said he should 
Be glad, if they would please, 
To make the matter understood, 
And say what ail’d the trees. 
Quoth he, “‘ My senses surely fail,” 
His eye-glass fix’d upon her, 
«* Or those are whiskers and a tail— 
It is a cat—’pon honor!” 
A Butcher with his fay stood there, 
It is a shocking trait, 
In folks like these to stand and stare 
When they should mind their way. 
Some idle fit their fancy takes, 
They leave their stalls and shops, 
And when they ought to chop our steaks, 
Alas! they stake our chops. 
And now the group was join’d by one, 
Or rather join’d by two, 
A Boy, with Monkey perch’d upon 
His shoulders, came in view 
Such boys as these we often see 
In London streets before us, 
Playing Di tanti palpiti, 
Or else the Huntsman’s chorus. 
