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.