A Night-Croucher's Journey

I grab the roll, hold tight, and off I run To the wood shed, my throat all gasps and yells. I cling and look below: the scent of dun Sweeter to me than finest mill'ner's smells. A heap of rounded pearls my bow'ls of rock Must soon augment or they may quite explode; It's coming near, tho' when it comes the shock Resounde from Vauxhall Bridge to Hampstead Road. A sudden breath. It drops. A thud of thunder. Dizzy and asham'd, I wipe my sweat soak'd brow, Mull o'er the coilings, grumbling as I blunder, "They say it's better out than in, and how!" Though stain'd and weaken'd, I must crouch back out Hoping none see with all this browne about.