Merchant poems |
1. |
On a matchless Miser, who was imprisoned, and had his valuable Effects
rifled, 19 May 1727.
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Merchant | ||
On a matchless Miser, who was imprisoned, and had his valuable Effects rifled, 19 May 1727.
These Fifty Years I have been gath'ring Gods,And pack'd them up as Merchants do their Loads.
Some humble Ones amongst old Feathers lay,
Whilst I to them did most devoutly pray.
How could I think their Godships long would ly,
To whom I gave so many Wings to fly?
Others did lurk in Stockings and old Shoes,
My Paper-deities were wrapt in Clues.
32
Russians broke up its Gates with Iron Mall,
And poinded all my Gods, and sent myself to Hell.
I'd easy been, but I'm of all bereav'd,
Whate'er became of me, had all my Gods been sav'd.
Merchant | ||