IN GLASGOW CHURCH-YARD.
HERE lies Mess Andrew Gray,
Of whom ne muckle gude can I
say:
He was ne Quaker, for he had ne spirit;
He was ne Papist, for he had ne merit;
He was ne Turk, for he drank muckle wine;
He was ne Jew, for he ate muckle swine:
Full forty years he preach'd and lied,
For which God d-n'd him when he died.
HERE lies the body of Thomas Moore,
What signifies more words?
Who kill'd himself by eating curds:
But if he'd been rul'd by Sarah his wife, He might have liv'd all the days of his life.
IN EDWALTON CHURCH-YARD, NOTTINGHAM.
SHE drank good ale, good punch, and wine,
And liv'd to the age of ninety-nine,
FROM THE FRENCH OF BOILEAU.
ONCE, says an author (where I need not say),
Two travellers found an oyster in their way:
Both fierce, both hungry, the debate grew strong,
While, scale in hand, Dame Justice pass'd along;
Before her each with clamour pleads the laws,
Explain'd the matter, and would win the cause:
Dame Justice, weighing long the doubtful right,
Takes, opens, swallows it, before their sight.
The cause of strife remov'd so rarely well,
"There take (says Justice) take ye each a shell:
We thrive at Westminster on fools like
you: "Twas a fat oyster-live in peace-adieu !"
SAID buxom Joan to husband Dick,
"If man and wife one creature be,
To cuckold you 's a loving trick,
Since you the pleasure share with me." "You're right," said Dick, and twig of tree About her sides with vigour flew ;
you the pleasure share with me,
I'll kindly share the pain with you."
SUSANNAH AND THE TWO ELDERS.
WHEN fair Susannah, in a cool retreat
Of shady arbours, shunn'd the sultry heat,
Two wanton lechers to her garden came,
And rushing, furious, seiz'd the trembling dame :
What female strength could do, her arms perform,
And guarded well the fort against the storm.
The story's ancient; and (if rightly told)
Young was the lady, but the lovers old.
Had the reverse been true! had authors sung
How that the dame was old, the lovers young;
If she had then the blooming pair deny'd,
With tempting youth and vigour on their side,
Lord! how the story would have shock'd my creed?
For that had been a miracle indeed!
Quoth Dick to Jack, with phiz full meek and mild, "Dear friend, 'tween you and me, my wife's with child."
Quoth Jack to Dick, "Dear friend, that's not so
I'm sure I have not lain with her this year!"
NATURE's a coarse, vile, daubing jade--
I've said it often, and repeat it—
She doth not understand her trade
Artists, ne'er mind her work; I hope you'll beat it.
Look, now, for heav'n's sake, at her skies!
What are they? Smoke for certainty, I know;
From chimney-tops, behold, they rise,
Made by some sweating cooks below.
Look at her dirt in lanes, from whence it comes;
From hogs, and ducks, and geese, and horses' bums-
Then tell me, Decency, I must request,
Who'd copy such a dev'lish nasty beast?
Paint by the yard-your canvas spread.
Broad as the main-sail of a man-of-war-
Your whale shall swallow up each other head,
Ev'n as the sun licks up each sneaking star.
I do assure you, bulk is no bad trick
By bulky things both men and maids are taken; Mind, too, to lay the paints like mortar thick, And make your pictures look as red as bacon.
All folks love size, believe my rhyme;
Burke says 'tis part of the sublime.
A Dutchman-I forget his name-Van Grout,
Van Slabberchops, Van Stink, Van Swab;
No matter, though I cannot make it out—
At calling names I never was a dab—
This Dutchman, then, a man of taste,
Holding a cheese that weigh'd a hundred pound,
Thus like a burgomaster spoke with judgment vast:
"No poet like my broder step de ground;
He be de bestest poet, look!
Dat all de vorld must please;
Vor he heb write von book,
So big as all dis cheese!"
If at a distance you would paint a pig,
Make out each single bristle on his back;
Or if your meaner subject be a wig,
Let not the caxon a distinctness lack;
Else all the lady critics will so stare,
And angry vow 'Tis not a bit like hair!"
Be smooth as glass-like Denner, finish high;
Then every tongue commends-
For people judge not only by the eye,
But feel your merit by their finger, ends:
Nay, closely nosing o'er the picture dwell,
As if to try the goodness by the smell.
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