I’m where my enemyes would wish.
Convict of lies is ev’ry sign,
The Inn has not one drop of wine,
The Captain swears the sea’s too rough—
(He has not passengers enough.)
And thus the Dean is forc’d to stay.
Till others come to help the pay.
The room smoked, but it was too cold to be without a fire. “There is,” he writes, “or should be, a Proverb here:”
When Mrs. Welsh’s chimney smokes,
’Tis a sign she’ll keep her folks;