The press, or literary chit-chat A Satire [by J. H. Reynolds] |
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The press, or literary chit-chat | ||
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Somewhere beyond the shores of RussiaExists the island of Bas-Bleusia;
An Amazonian tribe dwell here
About three months in every year,
The other nine they fly away,
But how or where is hard to say;
I've heard, indeed, they 've been seen falling
On Albion's shores when gulls are squalling,
But, once upon dry land, a trice in
They 're hid from sight some edifice in;
So that the learned are disputing,
Whether deep mud their forms they shoot in,
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Shelter themselves like bat or swallow;
However I am of opinion
That they depart their own dominion,
And seek some clime where man, that demon,
Makes havoc 'midst the hearts of women.
The press, or literary chit-chat | ||