Classic Poem

Thou high metal'd colt,
Thou blood of judge Holt ,
Thou flourishing sprig of the law ,
With patience and pity
Read over this ditty,
Which I send to prevent a fracas .

On cold mutton to dine,
With small tiff and no wine ;
No ham, veal, or fine pigeon pye,
No rich flowing bowls
No generous souls ,
What wretch so unhappy as I?
O ill fated rules ,
Scourge of gay, thoughtless fools,
To-day could ye lengthen your span ,
Let me out to the Tuns,
Free from bailiffs and duns ,
You would make me the happiest man.

Brother Casberd will tell ye,
(Let him first fill his belly)
From a very true book, that the d — ll,
With good Job to be even,
Mixt with children of Heav'n ,
And there did his office of evil ;

So think, at the Tuns ,
If to heighten your funs ,
Some C AITIF should mix in the rout ;
And be so audacious,
To serve scire facias ,
When in how shall I get OUT .

Perhaps some may grin,
And call it a sin,
For one of my cloth and profession ;
To contract any debt ,
Nor would I , could I get,
Of a dean'ry or stall the possession.

I had for some years,
Great hopes and few fears,
Of the LAWN and the LORDSHIP was dreaming;
And until the POOR MOUSE
Was BROUGHT FORTH in my house,
The MOUNTAIN was always a TEEMING .

But my ballads I'll sing ,
Drink a health to the King ,
My once R OYAL M ASTER'S great HEIR ;
Be content with my BARN ,
And endeavour to learn,
With C AMELIONS to live upon air .

Now to you to return ,
You may guess how I mourn ,
The great loss of your noble REPAST ;
For I've been such a FOOL ,
That my kitchen is cool ,
And ev'ry day almost a fast .

Then be warn'd from my case,
Who long to say grace ,
And a slice of your ven'son to eat;
Let the FAMOUS O. E.
Join the word C ONOMY ,
Nor to hazard such joys, RUN IN DEBT ;

'Tis to P ROPERTY now,
That MY L ORD makes his BOW ,
If we want the thing call'd Common Sense,
For our parts or our wit ,
We nothing can get,
And ALL FRIENDSHIPS drop off with our PENCE .

So my dear Jack adieu,
Know , my heart is with you,
Tho' my person at home is confin'd;
But if you'll be MUM ,
Spight of writ or of BUM ,
I may visit you after you've din'd;

At noon, or at night ,
When owls take their flight ,
I'll my H OBBY horse get if I can ,
And then, boys, O then,
Till the hour of ten,
Will join the CHOICE SPIRITED clan.