Jany [17]97
To T. Poole
Plucking flowers from the Galáxy On the pinions of Abstraction I did quite forget to ax 'e Whether you have an objaction With us to swill 'e and to swell 'e And make a pig stie of your belly. A lovely limb most dainty Of a ci-de vant Mud-raker, I makes bold to acquaint 'e We've trusted to the Baker: And underneath it Satis Of that subtérrene Apple By the Erudite 'clep'd, taties, With which if you'd wish to grapple; As sure as I am a sloven The clock will not strike twice one, When the said Dish will be out of the Oven, And the Dinner will be a nice one. P.S. Besides, we've got some cabbage — You Jew-dog, if you linger May the Itch in pomp of Scabbage Pop out between each finger.
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