The feast was over on LORD MAYOR'S DAY;
The waiters had clear'd the viands away;
The Common Councilmen all were gone,
And every Alderman,—saving _one_;
Who to gorge and guzzle no longer able,
Had sunk to repose beneath the table,
And, sooth'd by his own melodious snore,
Lay calmly stretch'd on the Guildhall floor.
But he lay not long in the arms of sleep,
Ere a sound, that caus'd his flesh to creep,
Startled him up from his _downy_ bed,
And caus'd him to raise his aching head;
When oh, what a sight then met his eyes,
And chill'd his soul with sad surprise!
* * * * *
He bawl'd aloud when the scene was o'er,
Which awoke the porter, who open'd the door.
When a bottle of sherry had loosen'd his tongue,
'Twas thus the LATEST ALDERMAN sung:—