Behold that narrow street which steep descends, Whose building to the slimy shore extends; Here Arundel's fam'd structure rear'd its frame, The street, alone, retains the empty name; Where Titian's glowing paint the canvass warm'd, And Raphael's fair design, with judgment, charm'd, Now hangs the _bellman's song_, and pasted here The coloured prints of Overton appear. Another ante-Christmas custom now falling into desuetude is the waits, who originally were musical watchmen, who had to give practical evidence of their vigilance by playing on the hautboy, or flageolet, at stated times during the night. In the household of Edward IV. there is mentioned in the _Liber niger Domus Regis_, "A Wayte, that nightely from Mychelmas to Shreve Thorsdaye, _pipe the watch_ within this courte fowere tymes; in the Somere nightes three tymes, and maketh _bon gayte_ at every chambre doare and offyce, as well for feare of pyckeres and pillers."[25] [Footnote 25: Pickers and stealers.] These waits afterwards became bands of musicians, who were ready to play at any festivities, such as weddings, etc., and almost every city and town had its band of waits; the City of London had its Corporation Waits, which played before the Lord Mayor in his inaugural procession, and at banquets and other festivities. They wore blue gowns, red sleeves and caps, and every one had a silver collar about his neck. Ned Ward thus describes them in his _London Spy_ (1703). "At last bolted out from the corner of a street, with an _ignis fatuus_ dancing before them, a parcel of strange hobgoblins, covered with long frieze rugs and blankets, hooped round with leather girdles from their cruppers to their shoulders, and their noddles buttoned up into caps of martial figure, like a Knight Errant at tilt and tournament, with his wooden head locked in an iron helmet; one, armed, as I thought with a lusty faggot-bat, and the rest with strange wooden weapons in their hands, in the shape of clyster pipes, but as long almost as speaking trumpets. Of a sudden they clapped them to their mouths, and made such a frightful yelling that I thought _he_ would have been dissolving, and the terrible sound of the last trumpet to be within an inch of my ears.... 'Why, what,' says he, 'don't you love musick? These are the topping tooters of the town, and have gowns, silver chains and salaries for playing _Lilli-borlero_ to my Lord Mayor's horse through the City.'" That these Corporation Waits were no mean musicians we have the authority of Morley, who, in dedicating his _Consort Lessons_ to the Lord Mayor and Aldermen in 1599, says: "As the ancient custom of this most honourable and renowned city hath been ever to retain and maintain excellent and expert musicians to adorn your Honours' favours, feasts and solemn meetings--to these, your Lordships' Wayts, I recommend the same--to your servants' careful and skilful handling."