With a Fa la, la, la, la,
The Muses now, &c.
But tho' the Muses should be kind,
And fill our empty Brain;
Yet if rough Neptune cause the Wind,
To rouse the Azure Main:
Our Paper, Pens, and Ink and we,
Rowl up and down our Ships at Sea,
With a Fa la, &c.
Then if we write not by each Post,