The Wiccamical Chaplet a selection of original poetry; comprising smaller poems, serious and comic; classical trifles; sonnets; inscriptions and epitaphs; songs and ballads; mock-heroics, epigrams, fragments, &c. &c. Edited by George Huddesford |
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TO A LADY,
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 | The Wiccamical Chaplet |  |
190
TO A LADY,
Who wished that some Complimentary Verses had included MORE of her Family.
Have you ne'er seen a Country Lad,
Mounted upon a sturdy Pad,
With much good-nature and some pride
Call to the Boys to come and ride?
“Here's a brave Horse! Isn't he, Jack?
“I'll help Thee up upon his back;
“You get behind me; Tom before;
“Can't we make room for any more?
“Sit forward, Lads! now, Harry, jump,
“There's a good seat upon his Rump.”
Mounted upon a sturdy Pad,
With much good-nature and some pride
Call to the Boys to come and ride?
“Here's a brave Horse! Isn't he, Jack?
“I'll help Thee up upon his back;
“You get behind me; Tom before;
“Can't we make room for any more?
“Sit forward, Lads! now, Harry, jump,
“There's a good seat upon his Rump.”
See, now the heavy Beast moves on,
He carries four as well as one;
It makes no diff'rence in his gait,
A lazy, flound'ring Cart-horse rate:
No whip or spur can make him gallop
If there's but One, or if they're all up.
He carries four as well as one;
It makes no diff'rence in his gait,
A lazy, flound'ring Cart-horse rate:
No whip or spur can make him gallop
If there's but One, or if they're all up.
Now, Madam, to apply, 'tis thus—
Your pad, the Poet's Pegasus,
Bears, in ten lines, your praises sweet—
Or flounders on, on fifty Feet.
Poor, hackney'd jade, with every bone
Worn bare, by often riding on;
Yet ne'er, I warrant, spar'd an inch,
He carries twenty at a pinch.
Your Sister only rides with you,
Because the Poet saw but Two;
But, had he seen your Aunts and Cousins,
He would have set 'em on by dozens.
Your pad, the Poet's Pegasus,
Bears, in ten lines, your praises sweet—
Or flounders on, on fifty Feet.
Poor, hackney'd jade, with every bone
Worn bare, by often riding on;
Yet ne'er, I warrant, spar'd an inch,
He carries twenty at a pinch.
Your Sister only rides with you,
Because the Poet saw but Two;
But, had he seen your Aunts and Cousins,
He would have set 'em on by dozens.
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