Take any station, pavement, circus, corner,
Where men their styles of print may call or choose,
And there—ten times more on it than JACK HORNER—
There shall you find him swathed in sheets of news.
Nothing can stay the placing of his wares—
Not bus, nor cab, nor dray! The very Slop,
That imp of power, is powerless! Ever he dares,
And, daring, lands his public neck and crop.
Even the many-tortured London ear,
The much-enduring, loathes his Speeshul yell,
His shriek of Winnur! But his dart and leer
And poise are irresistible. PALL MALL
Joys in him, and MILE END; for his vocation
Is to purvey the stuff of conversation.