Volume 25 — A CHAUNT FOR THE CHOUSED.
Reading edition
Dine? who'd dine At eight shillings a head, or even nine, With the heaviest price for the lightest wine? Ah! that house I know too well, 'Tis your "first-class" Hotel: Sad "Tales of my Landlord" there they tell. Far better for me To order tea, And go dinnerless at that hostelry.
Sleep? who'd sleep Where a standing army their quarters keep, And in countless legions upon you creep? Ah! whose form is that I see,— A flea! Sirs, a flea! He cometh to sup off me. Far better, say I, On the sofa to lie; I prefer his room to his company.
Stay? who'd stay To be bitten and fleeced in this wholesale way, And live at the rate of a fortune a day? Ah! who'll expose their crimes? The Times, Sirs, the Times, The waiter his fee declines: Tell the landlord from me Him further I'll see, Ere again I'll be fleeced at his hostelry.
He came—smiled—and said nothing!—Such is Mr. Punch's short-hand report of the interview granted by the Earl of Clarendon to the Finsbury deputation on the Eastern question.