The night arrived for trotter-shaking-- [3]
To Mother Swankey's snoozing-crib; [4]
Each downy cadger was seen taking
His bit of muslin, or his rib. [5]
Twelve candles vos stuck into turnips,
Suspended from the ceiling queer--
Bunn's blaze of triumph was all pickles
To this wegetable shandileer.
Tol, lol lol, etc.