Winchester Gazette

POETIC DEPARTMENT.

From a London Paper.

The Gouty Merchant and the Stranger.

In Broad street Buildings, on a winter's night,
Snug by his parlour fire a gouty wight
Sat all alone, with one hand rubbing
His leg roll'd up in fleecy hose,
While t'other held beneath his nose
The public ledger, in whole columns grubbing.
He noted all the sales of hops,
Ships, shops, and slops,
Gum, gales, and groceries, ginger gin,
Tar, tallow, turmerick, turpentine and tin.
When lo! a decent personage in black
Enter'd and most politely said--
"Your footman, sir, has gone his nightly track
To the king's head,
And left your door ajar, which I
Observ'd in passing by,
And thought it neighbourly to give you notice."
"Ten thousand thanks--how very few get
In time of danger
Such kind attentions from a stranger!"
"Assuredly that fellow's throat is
Doom'd to the halter drop at Newgate,
He knows, too, the unconscionable elf
That there's no soul at home except
Myself."
"Indeed!" replied the stranger, looking grave,
"Then he's a double knave.
He knew that rogues and thieves by scores
Nightly beset unguarded doors,
And see how easily might one
Of these domestic foes,
Even beneath your very nose,
Perform his knavish tricks,--
Enter your room as I have done,
Blow out your candles--thus and thus--
Pocket your silver candlesticks,
And walk off--thus."
So said--so done--he made no more remarks,
Nor waited for replies,
But marched off with his prize,
Leaving the gouty merchant in the dark.