 | Every Man in his Own Way |  |
A sober Countryman, as Stories say,
Would visit Bedlam on a certain Day;
Where, as he pitied a poor Wretch's Case,
The merry Madman laugh'd him in the Face,
And cry'd, Alas! your Judgment's very bad,
Believe me, 'tis not I, but You, are mad!
Mankind are run distracted ev'ry where,
All but a few, who keep their Senses Here.
You see our Madman, tho' prodigious ill,
Was happy in his own Opinion still.
Would visit Bedlam on a certain Day;
Where, as he pitied a poor Wretch's Case,
The merry Madman laugh'd him in the Face,
And cry'd, Alas! your Judgment's very bad,
Believe me, 'tis not I, but You, are mad!
Mankind are run distracted ev'ry where,
All but a few, who keep their Senses Here.
You see our Madman, tho' prodigious ill,
Was happy in his own Opinion still.
| Every Man in his Own Way | |