Classic Poem

1

Of Gyants and Knights and their wonderful fights
We have stories enough in Romances,
But I'le tell you one new, that is strange and yet true,
Though t'other are nothing but fancies.

2

A Knight lately made of the Governing trade,
Whose name he'l not have to be known,
Has been trucking with fame, to purchase a name,
For 'tis said he had none of his own.

3

He by Fortunes design, should have been a Divine,
And a pillar no doubt of the Church;
Whom a Sexton (God wot) in the bellfry begot,
And his Mother did pig in the porch.

4

And next for his breeding, 'twas learned hogfeeding,
With which he so long did converse,
That his manners and feature, was so like their nature,
You'ld scarce know his sweetness from theirs.

5

But observe the device of this Noblemans rise,
How he hurryed from trade, to trade,
From the grains he'd aspire to the yest, and then higher,
Till at length he a Drayman was made.

6

Then his dray-horse and he, in the streets we did see,
With his hanger, his sling and his jacket;
Long time he did watch, to meet with his match,
For he'd ever a mind to the placket.

7

At length he did find out a Trull to his mind,
And Ursula was her name;
Oh Ursly quoth he, and oh Tom then quoth she,
And so they began their game.

8

But as soon as they met, O such babes they did get,
And blood-royal in 'um did place,
From a swineheard they came, a she-bear was their Dam,
They were suckled as Romulus was.

9

At last when the rout, with their head did fall out,
And the wars thereupon did fall in,
He went to the field, with a sword, but no shield,
Strong drink was his buckler within.

10

But when he did spy, how they dropt down and die,
And did hear the bullets to sing;
His armes he flung down, and run fairly to town,
And exchang'd his sword for his sling.

11

Yet he claimed his share, in such honours as were
Belonging to nobler spirits;
That ventur'd their lives, while this Buffon survives
To receive the reward of their merits.

12

When the wars were all done, he his fighting begun,
And would needs shew his valour in peace,
Then his fury he flings, at poor conquer'd things,
And frets like a hog in his grease.

13

For his first feat of all, on a Wit he did fall,
A wit as some say, and some not,
Because he'd an art, to rime on the quart,
But never did care for the pot.

14

And next on the cocks, he fell like an Ox,
And took them and their Masters together;
But the combs and the spurs, kept himself and his Sirs,
Who are to have both or neither.

15

The cause of his spite, was because they would fight,
And because he durst not he did take-on;
And said they were fit, for the pot, not the spit,
And would serve to be eaten with bacon.

16

But flesh'd with these spoyles, the next of his toyles,
Was to fall with wild-beasts by the ears,
To the Bearward he goeth, and then opened his mouth;
And said, oh! are you there with your bears?

17

Our stories are dull, of a cock and a bull,
But such was his valour and care;
Since he bears the bell, the tales that we tell,
Must be of a cock and a bare.

18

The crime of the bares was, they were Caveleers,
And had formerly fought for the King;
And pull'd by the Burrs, the roundheaded Curs,
That they made both their ears to ring.

19

Our successour of Kings, like blind fortune flings,
Upon him both honour and store;
Who has as much right, to make Tom a Knight,
As Tom has desert, and no more.

20

But Fortune that whore, still attended this Brewer,
And did all his atchievements reward;
And blindly did fling, on this lubberly thing,
More honour, and made him a Lord

21

Now he walks with his spurs, and a couple of curs
At his heels, which he calls Squires;
So when honour is thrown, on the head of a clown,
'Tis by Parasites held up, and Lyars.

22

The rest of his pranks, will merit new thanks,
With his death, if we did but know it;
But we'l leave him and it, to a time and place fit,
And Greg shall be funeral Poet.