Originally published in Reynolds's Miscellany of Romance, General Literature, Science, and Art (John Dicks) vol.8 #191 (06 Mar 1852).
THE evening was cold and raw;
And by a blazing fire,
To waste his day and puff away
His cares, sat Obadiah.
A flaggon on the table stood,
And oft he drained it dry;
And often, too, he filled it up—
A bottle standing nigh.
Now Obed was a thinking man,
And soon he quite forgot
The earth below and everything
Except his happy lot.
He thought he was in Paradise,
And not the town of Lynn—
He fancied fountains playing punch,
And rivers running gin—
But when he stooped to light his pipe,
Which had by chance expired,
His alcoholic body was
Spontaneously fired.
The flames soon caught the building, and
Were seen for miles around—
And in an hour the old Lynn Inn
Was burnt down to the ground!
The morning found a sturdy knave
A raking 'mongst the stones—
But naught was found of Obed, save
His buttons and his bones.