 | Poems on several subjects |  |
Upon our jolly Change-Keeper leaving the place.
Now we may greet when Bacchus frowns:
Douf Dulness all our meetings crowns;
Our hearty, blithe, and chearful host
Has left us all in drouth to toast.
He was the jest of all our plays,
And swagger'd wide on bridal days.
When buckled nymphs met on the green,
He soon drew to him a' their een;
He bobb'd, wheel'd round, skipt here and there,
In sportive doubles, fleet as air.
Then wisely cry'd, lest he should fail,
To fetch a swinging pot of ale.
Sweet son of Mirth! for, on the spot,
He'd fling the swats plump down his throat:
And wisely reckon'd they were bless'd
That pay'd and drank, and danc'd and kiss'd.
Douf Dulness all our meetings crowns;
Our hearty, blithe, and chearful host
Has left us all in drouth to toast.
He was the jest of all our plays,
And swagger'd wide on bridal days.
When buckled nymphs met on the green,
He soon drew to him a' their een;
He bobb'd, wheel'd round, skipt here and there,
In sportive doubles, fleet as air.
Then wisely cry'd, lest he should fail,
To fetch a swinging pot of ale.
62
He'd fling the swats plump down his throat:
And wisely reckon'd they were bless'd
That pay'd and drank, and danc'd and kiss'd.
A narrow-hearted logger-head,
He pray'd that drouth might be his dead.
When sauls of larger size he met,
He bless'd his stars, and thank'd their fate.
But this same man, however good,
Has left, ah! left this neighbourhood.
He pray'd that drouth might be his dead.
When sauls of larger size he met,
He bless'd his stars, and thank'd their fate.
But this same man, however good,
Has left, ah! left this neighbourhood.
| Poems on several subjects | |