And our wine shall not lack for thy throttle,
Nor at night shall our portals be cloged,
And thy lips thou shalt place to the bottle
On our chimley, when so thou'rt dispoged;
We have pickled 'intensely' our salmon;
To thy moods are great cowcumbers dressed,
O Daughter of Gumption and Gammon,
Our Mistress and Guest!
And in hours when our lamp-ile has dwindled
In deep walleys of uttermost pain,
When our hopes to grey ashes are kindled,
We are fain of thee still, we are fain;
In this Piljian's Projiss of Woe, in
This Wale of white shadders and damp,
O Roge all a-blowin' and growin',
We open our Gamp!
ADAM
After W. W.
An adventure of the Author's, and one designed to show that grievances may be met with in the cottages of the humblest, and may take the most unexpected forms.
When in my white-washed walls confined
Till eve her freedom brings,
I often turn a musing mind
To think awhile of things,
And thus about the noontide glow
To-day my thoughts recalled
Old Adam, whom I once did know,
A dear old thing, though bald.
A village Gravedigger was he
With Newgate fringe of grey,
The only man that one could see
At work on Saturday!