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The Author's Muse to the Reader
  
  
  
  
  


138

The Author's Muse to the Reader

A Monitory Tale

In fair Barbados once there dwelt a dame
Of special note, though I forget her name;
With flatulencies she was oft oppressed,
They soured her temper and disturbed her rest.
At length a grand specific she had found,
'Twas lemonade, with aqua-vitae crowned.
A nutmeg o'er the potion should you grate
'Twould make it punch; and punch the dame did hate.
One morning when the clock had just struck nine
She calls to Betty with a sickly whine.
“This dreadful colic—something I must take.”
“A little spirit, madam, shall I add?”
“Yes to be sure! Why sure the girl is mad!
“Can pungent acids with my colic suit
“Unless there's spirit to correct the fruit?”
“A little nutmeg, madam—will you try?”
“Punch in the morning! Gracious God, I die!
“Think you with nasty punch I would get drunk!
“Begone you vile, abominable punk!”
Now listen reader! punch if thou dost hate
Shut up the book before it be too late
'Twas wholesome lemonade I meant to brew,
But troth I fear there's nutmeg in it too.
So, gentle reader, if thou dost get tipsy
Pray call me not a saucy wanton gipsy.
Jan. 1, 1790