.Nw.OTk4

The great fatigue of dressing being o'er It must be near the common breakfast hour When to his breakfast room in state, he stalks T'woud be too trite a phase [sic? phrase] to say he walks Chubdars [Moorish servants] Dercamatis, Bearers, Peons & Clashes With three Salams salute him as he passes When in the room again he takes his seat And gently on the table lays his feet All dainties grace the Eastern breakfast board And tea is laid before the mighty Lord With great exertion e'en to reach his lip He now and then contrives to take a sip The Frizeur next, approaches to his chair And busily proceeds to dress his hair When Hookah Comes [crossed out: illegible] he gives the stern command And instantly the snake is in his hand Whilst the luxurious fragrant Chillum burns He eats and smoaks & smocks & sipps by turns. The Breakfast over ant the table clear A groupe of natives cringing now appear Led by his Banyan; who wish three Salams Mention their business and their different names And with a deal of Oriental Cant Conclude with masters favours all they want.