The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
445
POSTSCRIPT.
NOW God bless our good king, and this good war,
And d*mn that wicked word we call Reform;
Breeding in Britain so much horrid jar,
So witch-like, conj'ring up a dangerous storm!
And d*mn that wicked word we call Reform;
Breeding in Britain so much horrid jar,
So witch-like, conj'ring up a dangerous storm!
Yet in the mouths of Pitt and Richmond's lord,
Once what a sweet and inoffensive word!
Thus proving the delightful proverb true,
‘What's meat to me, may poison be to you.’
Once what a sweet and inoffensive word!
Thus proving the delightful proverb true,
‘What's meat to me, may poison be to you.’
And now God bless once more good Mister Pitt,
Who for invention beats nineteen in twenty;
And may this gentleman's most ready wit
Supply the nation all with taxes plenty;
And as the kingdom has unclench'd its fist,
Pick out a few odd pence for civil list.
Who for invention beats nineteen in twenty;
And may this gentleman's most ready wit
Supply the nation all with taxes plenty;
And as the kingdom has unclench'd its fist,
Pick out a few odd pence for civil list.
We are too rich—Dame Fortune grows too saucy,
Wealth is inclin'd to be confounded brassy.
Wealth is inclin'd to be confounded brassy.
War is a wholesome blister for the back;
Draining away the humours all so gross;
Else would the empire be of guts a sack—
A Falstaff—woolsack—an unwieldy joss.
Draining away the humours all so gross;
Else would the empire be of guts a sack—
A Falstaff—woolsack—an unwieldy joss.
War yieldeth such rare spirits to a nation!
Giving the blood so brisk a circulation!
A kingdom, and a poet, and a cat,
Should never, never, never be too fat.
Giving the blood so brisk a circulation!
A kingdom, and a poet, and a cat,
Should never, never, never be too fat.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |