Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown place,
Has seen " Lodgings to Let " stare him full in the face;
Some are good and let dearly; while some, 'tis well known,
Are so dear and so bad, they are best let alone.
Derry down.

Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely,
Hired lodgings that took Single Gentlemen only;
But Will was so fat he appeared like a ton,
Or like two single gentlemen rolled into one.

He entered his rooms, and to bed he retreated,
But all the night long he felt fevered and heated,
And though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep,
He was not by any means heavy to sleep.

Next night 'twas the same, and the next, and the next;
He perspired like an ox, he was nervous and vexed;
Week passed after week, till by weekly succession,
His weakly condition was past all expression.

In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him,
For his skin, " like a lady's loose gown, " hung about him;
He sent for a doctor, and cried like a ninny,
" I have lost many pounds; make me well, there's a guinea. "

The doctor looked wise; " A slow fever, " he said;
Prescribed sudorifics and going to bed.
" Sudorifics in bed, " exclaimed Will, " are humbugs;
I've enough of them there without paying for drugs. "

Will kicked out the doctor; but when ill indeed,
E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed;
So calling his host, he said, " Sir, do you know
I'm the fat Single Gentleman six months ago?

" Look'ee, landlord, I think, " argued Will, with a grin,
" That with honest intentions you first took me in;
But from the first night, and to say it I'm bold,
I have been so damned hot, that I'm sure I caught cold. "

Quoth the landlord, " Till dow I ne'er had a dispute;
I've let lodgings ten years; I'm a baker to boot.
In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven,
And your bed is immediately — over my oven. "

" The oven! " says Will. Says the host, " Why this passion?
In that excellent bed died three people of fashion!
Why so crusty, good sir? " " Zounds! " cries Will in a taking,
" Who wouldn't be crusty with half a year's baking? "

Will paid for his rooms. Cried the host, with a sneer,
" Well, I see you've been going away half a year. "
" Friend, we can't well agree, yet no quarrel, " Will said,
" But I'd rather not perish while you make your bread . "