Men-Miracles With other Poemes. By M. LL. St [i.e.Martin Lluelyn] |
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Eleventh Miracle. |
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 | Men-Miracles |  |
Eleventh Miracle.
The Lusitanian King of lateFound Nation out where Curre is pate,
Their middle part is man, their thighes
Are horse, their hoofe divided lyes.
Their Language Mumme, for Reader harke,
Truth is they doe not speake, but barke.
They skirmish oft, their Captives eate,
Else other creatures are their meate.
Were these in England we should thence,
Be puzled for their difference,
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Not Tom and Dick, but Tosse and Ball.
No Trades or Arts they ere would prove;
Unlesse hunt Ducke, or fetch a glove.
Their logding (alls one) eight or ten Ell,
For their Bed-chamber is their Kennell.
But then their wives there's nought more puzzles,
Our womens mufflers are their Muzzles.
But out alas, what mighty stirre,
Would be for an Interpreter.
They must be pleasd, for if feud growes
Masters and Freinds they eate for Foes.
And stranger diet ne're was knowne,
When Master's to his dogge a bone.
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