| Citation |
EP.780.006
26 Feb 1780:23 (72)
Dear Dick,
Thank God I'm still alive,
No yearling heifer more did thrive
Than me, since I've been here:
No Couset lamb e'er found such fate,
. . . [11 lines]
Here what our parson us'd to call
The timbrell, harp, and psalt'ry all,
Conspire our joy to make.
. . . [24 lines]
To balls (or what you dances call)
Within a gaudy spacious hall
In pompous state I had am;
There nymphs without compare are found,
Who court'sy low, or bow profound
To master, miss, or madam:
and Dick I vow! if you was here
To see them flirt, and flounce, or fleer,
And caper, dance, or shuffle:
Odd zookins boy! they foot it so
You'd soon (like me) forget the hoe
And long to join the shuffle:
. . . [6 more lines]
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