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The manner of spending a day in India

At 8 o Clock, the usual hour to rise The Madras Indian, rubs his drowsy eyes The well known signal for the sable fair To rise, and vanish by a private stair. Still on the pillow he reclines his head But careless throws, his legs from off the bed When in the other servants push & cram Contending who shall make the first Salam. His menials all, approach him like a God. And he's the happy man who gets a nod. Such condescension, deem'd a sure prediction Of having Master's favour & protection. Next rising from his bed, with gentle care He seats himself upon an easy chair Where wight moving hand or foot, at all His numerous servants dress him like a doll When thus attired, the barber next appears To shave, cut nails, champooh & clean his ears. The instant from the operation free [His] servant brings him a Chillum ghee [P]ours water in his hands, to wash his face And gives a towel with a particular grace.