(_A SOLEMN TRAGEDY OF THE SHOOTING SEASON._)
This is the Grouse that _Jack_ shot.
This is the friend who expected the Grouse that _Jack_ shot.
This is the label addressed to the friend who expected the Grouse that
_Jack_ shot.
This is the Babel where lost was the label addressed to the friend,
&c.
This is the porter who "found" the "birds" in the Babel where lost was
the label, &c.
This is the dame with the crumpled hat, wife of the porter who "found"
the "birds," &c.
This is the cooking-wench florid and fat of the dame with the crumpled
hat, &c.
This is the table where diners sat, served by the cooking-maid florid
and fat of the dame with the crumpled hat, &c.
This is the _gourmand_ all forlorn, who dreamed of the table where
diners sat, served by the cooking-wench florid and fat, &c.
This is the postman who knocked in the morn awaking the _gourmand_ all
forlorn from his dream of the table, &c.
And this is _Jack_ (with a face of scorn), thinking in wrath of
"directions" torn from the parcel by Railway borne, announced by the
postman who knocked in the morn, awaking the _gourmand_ all forlorn,
who dreamed of the table where diners sat, served by the cooking-wench
florid and fat of the dame with the crumpled hat, wife of the
porter who "found" the "birds" in the Babel where lost was the label
addressed to the friend who expected the Grouse that _Jack_ shot!