Then comes the rising, with repentance bitter, And all the nerves--(and sparrows)--in a twitter, Till settled by the sober Chinese cup: The hands, o’er all, are members that make motions, A sort of wavering just like the ocean’s, Which has its swell, too, when it’s getting up-- An awkward circumstance enough for elves Who shave themselves; And Simpson just was ready to go thro’ it When lo! the first short glimpse within the glass-- He jump’d--and who alive would fail to do it?-- To see, however it had come to pass, One section of his face as green as grass! In vain each eager wipe, With soap--without--wet--hot or cold--or dry, Still, still, and still, to his astonished eye One cheek was green, the other cherry ripe! Plump in the nearest chair he sat him down, Quaking, and quite absorb’d in a deep study,-- But verdant and not brown, What could have happened to a tint so ruddy? Indeed it was a very novel case, By way of penalty for being jolly, To have that evergreen stuck in his face, Just like the windows with their Christmas holly. “All claret marks,”--thought he--Tom knew his forte-- “Are red--this colour CANNOT come from Port!” One thing was plain; with such a face as his, ’Twas quite impossible to ever greet Good Mrs. Brown; nay, any party meet, Altho’ ’twas such a parti-coloured phiz! As for the public, fancy Sarcy Ned, The coachman, flying, dog-like, at his head, With “Ax your pardon, Sir, but if you please-- Unless it comes too high-- Vere ought a fellow, now, to go to buy The t’other half, Sir, of that ‘ere green cheese?” His mind recoil’d--so he tied up his head, As with a raging tooth, and took to bed; Of course with feelings far from the serene, For all his future prospects seemed to be, To match his customary tea, Black mixt with green. Meanwhile, good Mrs. Brown Wondered at Mr. S. not coming down, And sent the maid up-stairs to learn the why; To whom poor Simpson, half delirious, Returned an answer so mysterious That curiosity began to fry; The more, as Betty, who had caught a snatch By peeping in upon the patient’s bed, Reported a most bloody, tied-up head, Got over-night of course--“Harm watch, harm catch,” From Watchmen in a boxing-match.