He snores, 'tis true, but he snores no more As he's aye been accustom'd to snore before, And as men of his kidney are wont to snore;-- (Sir Thopas's weight is sixteen stone four;) He draws his breath like a man distress'd By pain or grief, or like one oppress'd By some ugly old Incubus perch'd on his breast. A something seems To disturb his dreams, And thrice on his ear, distinct and clear, Falls a voice as of somebody whispering near In still small accents, faint and few, "Hey down the chimney-pot!--Hey after you!" Throughout the Vicarage, near and far, There is no lack of bolt or of bar; There are plenty of locks To closet and box, Yet the pantry wicket is standing ajar! And the little low door, through which you must go, Down some half-dozen steps, to the cellar below, Is also unfastened, though no one may know By so much as a guess, how it comes to be so; For wicket and door, The evening before, Were both of them lock'd, and the key safely placed On the bunch that hangs down from the Housekeeper's waist. Oh! 'twas a jovial sight to view In that snug little cellar that frolicsome crew!-- Old Goody Price Had got something nice, A turkey-poult larded with bacon and spice;-- Old Goody Jones Would touch nought that had bones,-- She might just as well mumble a parcel of stones. Goody Jones, in sooth, hath got never a tooth, And a New-College pudding of marrow and plums Is the dish of all others that suiteth her gums. Madge Gray was picking The breast of a chicken, Her coal-black eye, with its glance so sly, Was fixed on Rob Gilpin himself, sitting by With his heart full of love, and his mouth full of pie; Grouse pie, with hare In the middle, is fare Which, duly concocted with science and care, Doctor Kitchener says, is beyond all compare; And a tenderer leveret Robin had never ate; So, in after times, oft he was wont to asseverate. "Now pledge we the wine-cup!--a health! a health! Sweet are the pleasures obtain'd by stealth! Fill up! fill up!--the brim of the cup Is the part that aye holdeth the toothsomest sup! Here's to thee, Goody Price!--Goody Jones, to thee!-- To thee, Roving Rob! and again to me! Many a sip, never a slip Come to us four 'twixt the cup and the lip!" The cups pass quick, The toasts fly thick, Rob tries in vain out their meaning to pick, But hears the words "Scratch," and "Old Bogey," and "Nick," More familiar grown, Now he stands up alone, Volunteering to give them a toast of his own. "A bumper of wine! Fill thine! Fill mine! Here's a health to old Noah who planted the Vine!" Oh then what sneezing, What coughing and wheezing, Ensued in a way that was not over pleasing! Goody Price, Goody Jones, and the pretty Madge Gray, All seem'd as their liquor had gone the wrong way.