“For Watkins the plebeian, Whose door we go to spoil (By past unskilled attempts enraged) A private watchman has engaged, Our cherished schemes to foil. Therefore let no man join us Who fears to break the peace And go the undivided hog, E’en to (should they our footsteps dog) Assaulting the police.” Then up spake Robert Simpson, Of Middlesex was he: “Lo! I’ll go in through thick and thin, To win the spoil with thee!” And up spake Brown of Charing, (Plucked but last week was he): “No man am I for saying die―― Lul-liet-iet-y! “That accidents will happen, It stands a fact confest, In families which, by their heads, Are regulated best; And if to-night’s adventures Result in fines and quods, So long as you are happy, Inform me where’s the odds?” And now the dauntless phalanx Stand ’neath the gas-light’s glare, And many a pipe and ancient hat Hurl’d at a scared and flying cat, Goes whizzing through the air. With Ethiopia’s music They rend the welkin now, Telling of Blane and Tucker’s fate, Till stern policeman “Twenty-eight” Steps forward to expostulate ’Gainst such a jolly row. The restless Strand behind them They leave, and quickly gain The corner where Saint Martin’s Church Frowns grandly up his lane. Through danger-fraught Cranbournia Unscath’d they make their way (Protected by the evening’s shade, For syrens in the bonnet trade That spell-bound district long have made Unsafe to pass by day). Up through the Court of Ryder! Nor idly pause to sigh O’er the crush’d Valentino’s fate, Nor Wharton’s bills investigate Above the lamps hard by. On! through the Cretan mazes Of Newport Market go. They’re past, and now the warlike train A yell of joy can scarce restrain As bursts in sight the proud domain Of Watkins of Soho! “Back, Simpson! back, Carruthers! Back, Blatherwick!――be cool; _Be_ quiet Brown; keep Davis down; And Jones!――don’t be a fool. Wait till the private watchman Shall round the corner wind; He will directly, to inspect The premises behind. “There, now, you see,――I told you; He’s hidden by the wall, Haste, Jones!――engage him in a chat,―― Insult his capes, or chaff his hat, Or treat him to some coffee at The early breakfast stall: Anything to engage him For minutes two or three, By which time he, I dare be bound, Shall see what he shall see.” Like telegraphic message Jones on his errand flies; And Blatherwick and Simpson Go with him as allies. (And, of those last-named heroes ’Tis whisper’d since on town, They thought the watchman-chaffing game A less precarious road to fame Than pulling knockers down).