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FAMILIAR AND HUMOROUS.
SOAME JENYNS, ESQ.
IN THE COUNTRY,
IN days, my Lord, when mother Time,
And JOVE was hardly come from school,
How free from wickedness and strife!
And nymphs were chaste, and swains were true.
But now, whatever poets write, 'Tis sure the case is alter'd quite,
Virtue no more in rural plains,
These, to the Church they fight for, strangers,
But I, my Lord, who, as you know,
A quarter-sessions, or cock-fighting:
But then no farm I occupy,
With sheep to rot and cows to die:
In the dull feast of neighb’ring knight,
First makes you sick, and then with feeding.
Or if with ceremony cloy'd,
You would next time such plagues avoid,
And visit without previous notice,
JOHN, JOHN, a coach!-I can't think who 'tis,
My lady cries, who spies your coach,