Classic Poem

Back, down the long bank, full of wisdom, she went:
Let none on that name cast a slur!
She could not conceive what the vile gipsy meant,
By supposing that Jem would suit her!
He rode like a clown, in his coat or his cloak,
And she loath'd his vile breeches of plaid:
If he brought her tobacco, (she did sometimes smoke,)
It was always in brandy o'erpaid.
A nasty, colloquing, conspiring, lame cheat,
One-handed, left-legg'd, and pig-ey'd!
She'd not cross her door sich a fellow to meet,
Nor stand in the road by his side.
She always knew well what his tendencies were;
Oh, his tastes were all grov'ling and base!
And he might be a bastard! she'd scorn to appear
Where a trull, like his wife, show'd her face.
" Would I condescend, " said the dignified dame,
" To touch sich a minx with the tongs?
I better know how to preserve a good name,
And what to good breeding belongs.
A coarse tasteless tassel — a cheat, and no witch —
What a vile tawdry dress she has on!
But she'll keep his accounts — she can write; if he's rich,
They'll shine, till his money is gone;
And when it is gone, he will rightly have learn'd
What ladies who scribble can do;
And wish all the books, but the bible, were burn'd,
And their readers, (or one of them,) too.
I would not be spiteful, but; God mend them both!
It's the worst wish I wish them, I'm sure:
He's a good-for-nought, bandy-shank'd black-guard and sloth,
And she quite as pretty as pure.
I wish her no harm, with her blushes of brass;
But she may have six twins in three years,
And corrupt every farantly neighbour she has,
Setting them and their wives by the ears.
Poor Gudgeon! he's hook'd — by a child-bearing Pouse!
But sluts are best married to rakes:
May their pigs get the itch! and smoke stifle his house!
And her oven spoil all that it bakes! "