Classic Poem

When Tom to Cambridge first was sent,
A plain brown bob he wore;
Read much, and look'd as though he meant
To be a fop no more.

See him to Lincoln's-Inn repair,
His resolution flag;
He cherishes a length of hair,
And tucks it in a bag.

Nor Coke nor Salkeld he regards,
But gets into the House,
And soon a judge's rank rewards
His pliant votes and bows.

Adieu, ye bobs! ye bags! give place;
Full bottoms come instead;
Good L—d! to see the various ways
Of dressing—a calf's head!