[Sidenote: SEASON'S SIGNS.
———————
♈ ♂ ♒
'Tis hard for
dust
they may not
ring;
♀ ♐ ♄ ⊕
because,
in March, 'twill
buy
a King.
[Illustration: A Jolly Cock]
[Illustration: A Dustman and his Belle.]]
That dustman's bell—that dustman's bell—
What horrid tales its tongue did tell!
He surely served his country well
Who freed us from the dustman's bell.
When basking in the morning beams,
I revell'd in Elysian dreams,
'Mong flowers, by Helicon's sweet bubble,
Inventing rhymes with little trouble;
What did so soon the charm dispel,
As that detested dustman's bell!
Or, thinking all the night away,
On debts ungather'd, bills to pay;
And pondering how it might be known
Whether 'twas best to hang or drown,
I've dropped into a wearied snooze,
And quickly tied the fatal nooze,
Then, starting at my funeral knell,
Found 'twas the dustman's passing bell.
When dining with a chosen few,
"The jolly cocks," a noble crew,
I've wander'd home supremely glorious,
And even dared to be uproarious,
The champagne mounting in my head,
Not knowing how I got to bed;
And, waking with the dawn, I've found
The room and bed-post turning round;
What time, in accents loud and clear,
My loving, lawful, lady dear,
With curtain'd privilege elate,
And heedless of my fallen state,
The round of all my faults doth tell;
Spite of my headache and my woes,
Exhausted, I begin to doze,
And dream I hear the dustman's bell,
That dustman's bell—that dustman's bell, &c.