│ │ │ 9│batter │ │ ♓ ☊ │ │ │ │And now you come again from Chanc'ry Lane,│ │ │10│clatter │Where "Law" and "Assurance" guard Old │this month, │ │ │ │ Dunstan's fane. │ │ │ │ │(_Old_ Dunstan, did I say?—_young_ Dunstan│ │ │ │ │ now, │ │ │11│spatter │As many a heavy parish rate will show.) │ ♂ ☿ ☉ ☽ │ │ │ │See how you raise a riot and a rout, │ │ │12│sky │Tossing old women's petticoats about; │ because I │ │ │ │Hats, capes, and umbrellas round you │ │ │ │ │ scatter, │ │ │13│high │Till good Saint Bridget wonders what's the│ shall be │ │ │ │ matter. │ able │ │ │ │ │ │ │14│toss │ Ah, che _gust_-o! what a dusto! │ │ │ │ │ Blowing, growing, as it flies. │ ♂ ♌ ♑ ♓ ♄ │ │15│in the │ Lime and mortar show no quarter, │ │ │ │ │ Ramming, cramming, ears and eyes. │to tell more│ │16│pan │ │ │ │ │ │They say your dust is gold; so, little │ correctly │ │ │ │ fear │ │ │17│high │Of growing poor; we'll roll in riches │ │ │ │ │ here; │ │ │ │ │Then blow up, MARCH! our sapient parish │ ♎ ♐ ♏ ♀ │ │ │ │ powers │ │ │18│as │Ne'er think of water till the April │ │ │ │ │ showers. │ │ │ │ │ │ next year; │ │19│you │ │ │ │ │ │ │ and │ │20│can │ │ │ │ │ │ │ moreover, │ │21│toss │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │22│them │ │ ⊕ ♃ │ │ │ │ │ │ │23│higher │ │ my readers │ │ │ │ │ │ │24│fat │ │ can │ │ │ │ │ │