 | The Distressed Poet |  |
From ev'ry apprehension eas'd,
Seeing each Muse, like Punch, look'd pleas'd,
Your business, quoth Apollo, done,
My race of Quack'ry now is run,
And therefore with the morning light
We'll to Parnassus take our flight;
But, as I'm quite fatigu'd with talking,
If my Back-parlour you'll just walk in,
We'll have a little snug regale
Of Cheshire Cheese, and Burton Ale;
'Twill comfort your celestial chops,
And make you Girls all sleep like tops.
Yet now,—as we'll be off by six,
On my Shop-door a Bill I'll fix:
My Landlord's clamour to prevent,
I'll on the Counter leave his Rent;
My Pills and Gallypots may stay,
They'll serve the Parish Rates to pay;
Faith, I'd leave England in my shirt,
Ere let my Frolics one man hurt.
Seeing each Muse, like Punch, look'd pleas'd,
Your business, quoth Apollo, done,
My race of Quack'ry now is run,
And therefore with the morning light
We'll to Parnassus take our flight;
72
If my Back-parlour you'll just walk in,
We'll have a little snug regale
Of Cheshire Cheese, and Burton Ale;
'Twill comfort your celestial chops,
And make you Girls all sleep like tops.
Yet now,—as we'll be off by six,
On my Shop-door a Bill I'll fix:
My Landlord's clamour to prevent,
I'll on the Counter leave his Rent;
My Pills and Gallypots may stay,
They'll serve the Parish Rates to pay;
Faith, I'd leave England in my shirt,
Ere let my Frolics one man hurt.
| The Distressed Poet | |