Oh! worthy Doctor! surely thou hast driven The squatting Demon from great Garratt's breast-- (His honor seems to rest!--) And what is thy reward?--Hath London given Thee public thanks for thy important service? Alas! not even The tokens it bestowed on Howe and Jervis!-- Yet could I speak as Orators should speak Before the worshipful the Common Council (Utter my bold bad grammar and pronounce ill,) Thou should'st not miss thy Freedom, for a week, Richly engross'd on vellum:--Reason urges That he who rules our cookery--that he Who edits soups and gravies, ought to be A _Citizen_, where sauce can make a _Burgess_! THE LAST MAN. I. 'Twas in the year two thousand and one, A pleasant morning of May, I sat on the gallows-tree, all alone, A channting a merry lay,-- To think how the pest had spared my life, To sing with the larks that day! II. When up the heath came a jolly knave, Like a scarecrow, all in rags: It made me crow to see his old duds All abroad in the wind, like flags;-- So up he came to the timber's foot And pitch'd down his greasy bags.-- III. Good Lord! how blythe the old beggar was! At pulling out his scraps,-- The very sight of his broken orts Made a work in his wrinkled chaps: "Come down," says he, "you Newgate-bird, And have a taste of my snaps!"-- IV. Then down the rope, like a tar from the mast, I slided, and by him stood: But I wish'd myself on the gallows again When I smelt that beggar's food,-- A foul beef bone and a mouldy crust;-- "Oh!" quoth he, "the heavens are good!" V. Then after this grace he cast him down: Says I, "You'll get sweeter air A pace or two off, on the windward side"-- For the felons' bones lay there-- But he only laugh'd at the empty skulls, And offer'd them part of his fare. VI. "I never harm'd _them_, and they won't harm me: Let the proud and the rich be cravens!" I did not like that strange beggar man, He look'd so up at the heavens-- Anon he shook out his empty old poke;-- "There's the crumbs," saith he, "for the ravens!" VII. It made me angry to see his face, It had such a jesting look; But while I made up my mind to speak, A small case-bottle he took: Quoth he, "Though I gather the green water-cress, My drink is not of the brook!" VIII. Full manners-like he tender'd the dram; Oh it came of a dainty cask! But, whenever it came to his turn to pull, "Your leave, good sir, I must ask; But I always wipe the brim with my sleeve, When a hangman sups at my flask!" IX. And then he laugh'd so loudly and long, The churl was quite out of breath; I thought the very Old One was come To mock me before my death, And wish'd I had buried the dead men's bones That were lying about the heath! X But the beggar gave me a jolly clap-- "Come, let us pledge each other, For all the wide world is dead beside, And we are brother and brother-- I've a yearning for thee in my heart, As if we had come of one mother." XI.