Almost awake? Why, what is this, and whence,
       &nbspO ye right loyal men, all undefiléd?
Sure, 'tis not possible that Common-Sense
       &nbspHas hitch'd her pullies to each heavy eye-lid?

Yet wherefore else that start, which discomposes
       &nbspThe drowsy waters lingering in your eye?
And are you really able to descry
       &nbspThat precipice three yards beyond your noses?

Yet flatter you I cannot, that your wit
       &nbspIs much improved by this long loyal dozing;
And I admire, no more than Mr. Pitt,
       &nbspYour jumps and starts of patriotic prosing—

Now cluttering to the Treasury Cluck, like chicken,
       &nbspNow with small beaks the ravenous Bill opposing;
With serpent-tongue now stinging, and now licking,
       &nbspNow semi-sibilant, now smoothly glozing—

Now having faith implicit that he can't err,
       &nbspHoping his hopes, alarm'd with his alarms;
And now believing him a sly inchanter,
       &nbspYet still afraid to break his brittle charms,

Lest some mad Devil suddenly unhamp'ring,
       &nbspSlap-dash! the imp should fly off with the steeple,
On revolutionary broom-stick scampering.—
       &nbspO ye soft-headed and soft-hearted people,

If you can stay so long from slumber free,
       &nbspMy muse shall make an effort to salute 'e:
For lo! a very dainty simile
       &nbspFlash'd sudden through my brain, and 'twill just suit 'e!

You know that water-fowl that cries, Quack! Quack!?
       &nbspFull often have I seen a waggish crew
Fasten the Bird of Wisdom on its back,
       &nbspThe ivy-haunting bird, that cries, Tu-whoo!

Both plung'd together in the deep mill-stream,
       &nbsp(Mill-stream, or farm-yard pond, or mountain-lake,)
Shrill, as a Church and Constitution scream,
       &nbspTu-whoo! quoth Broad-face, and down dives the Drake!

The green-neck'd Drake once more pops up to view,
       &nbspStares round, cries Quack! and makes an angry pother;
Then shriller screams the Bird with eye-lids blue,
       &nbspThe broad-faced Bird! and deeper dives the other.
Ye quacking Statesmen! 'tis even so with you—
       &nbspOne Peasecod is not liker to another.

Even so on Loyalty's Decoy-pond, each
       &nbspPops up his head, as fir'd with British blood,
Hears once again the Ministerial screech,
       &nbspAnd once more seeks the bottom's blackest mud!