One day, when at the Nelson's Head
(For which he may be blamed of you),
A holy man appeared, and said,
"Oh, ROBERT, I'm ashamed of you."
He laid his hand on ROBERT'S beer
Before he could drink up any,
And on the floor, with sigh and tear,
He poured the pot of "thruppenny."
"Oh, ROBERT, at this very bar
A truth you'll be discovering,
A good and evil genius are
Around your noddle hovering.
"They both are here to bid you shun
The other one's society,
For Total Abstinence is one,
The other, Inebriety."
He waved his hand--a vapour came--
A wizard POLTER reckoned him;
A bogy rose and called his name,
And with his finger beckoned him.
The monster's salient points to sum,--
His heavy breath was portery:
His glowing nose suggested rum:
His eyes were gin-and-WORtery.
His dress was torn--for dregs of ale
And slops of gin had rusted it;
His pimpled face was wan and pale,
Where filth had not encrusted it.
"Come, POLTER," said the fiend, "begin,
And keep the bowl a-flowing on--
A working man needs pints of gin
To keep his clockwork going on."
BOB shuddered: "Ah, you've made a miss
If you take me for one of you:
You filthy beast, get out of this--
BOB POLTER don't wan't none of you."
The demon gave a drunken shriek,
And crept away in stealthiness,
And lo! instead, a person sleek,
Who seemed to burst with healthiness.
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