And, for groves—oh, a fine grove of chimneys for me!
“In the ev’ning you’re screw’d to your chairs fist to fist,
“All stupidly yawning at sixpenny whist;
“And, tho’ win or lose, ’tis as true as ’tis strange,
“You’ve nothing to pay—the good folks have no change!
“But, for singing and piping, your time to engage,
“You’ve cock and hen bullfinches coop’d in a cage;
“And what music in nature can make you so feel,
“As a pig in a gate stuck, or knife-grinder’s wheel!
“I grant, if in fishing you take much delight,