 | A Collection Of Poems |  |
A TALE.
[Fat—from Breakfast now pretty well rested]
Fat—from Breakfast now pretty well rested,(A Pidgeon Pye Corner since Morning digested;)
A glad Summons receiv'd from a neighb'ring College,
Where Ven'son and Port, pass'd for Genius and Knowledge.
As for Latin or Greek, they knew no such Trash Man,
Fill your Pipe is the word, from the Head to the Fresh Man.
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That had e'er crack'd a Joke with the fam'd Dr. ------?
Well, at Dinner in Glee now the Dr. is seated,
The Table with Guests, and with Dishes compleated;
His merciless Knife a Plumb Pudding first mourn'd,
Then to Bak'd, Boil'd, and Roast, he alternately turn'd,
On the Ven'son he fasten'd when e'er it came nigh him,
And each Fowl as it pass'd, or repass'd, he Shot flying.
At length looking round, and his Knife laid aside,
With Eating tho tir'd, yet not satisfied;
Fill a Bumper, he cries,—O good Sir, no Water,
In ακρατον for ever, Sir drink Alma Mater:
Then he sunk it full soon,—and stroaking his Band,
And lifting to Heav'n his Eyes and his Hand,
Grant us Patience he cries, what hard Labours attend them,
Whom the Church and Religion have chose to defend them?
| A Collection Of Poems | |