Classic Poem

In ancient Greece, when acting first began,
A cart the stage, and simple was the plan;
No falling tear bedew'd the actor's face,
His tale adapted to the time, and place.

So I this night, with humble def'rence, stand
To please the audience of Bunmahon's strand.
You'll say, “you've seen Pope harrow up the soul,
“And ranting Holman quaff the deadly bowl;
“Pathetic Barry mourn fair Juliet's fall,
“And vengeful Zanga shake Alonzo's hall;
“Seen stage-struck Vapid in a mighty rage,
“When play'd by Lewis on the Dublin stage.”

'Tis granted all; but great the diff'rence lies,
Between what cities, and the cot supplies,
You who've quaff'd wine which mighty Jove might cheer,
Are here content with Drohan's muddy beer;
Who've seen your boards with twice twelve dishes groan,
On Terry's tongs here broil a marrow bone;
Who erst have seen all India's spicy store,
In massy covers to your tables bore;
Now here, unconscious of your kitchen hoard,
Must twirl a turkey on a sugar cord;
Who oft recumbent in cool grottos lay,
To mock the fun-beams of a sultry day;
Or prest the couch with velvet cushion's spread,
When drifting snows inwrapt the mountain's head;
But here, content, a diff'rent sofa rears,
Ye pack in clusters on inverted chairs.

Since these ye bear, his poor repast receive,
Who aims to please you that himself may live.