THE YEARLY DISTRESS; OR, TITHING-TIME AT STOCK IN ESSEX. Verses addressed to a Country Clergyman, complaining of the Disagreeableness of the Day annually appointed for receiving the Dues at the Parsonage. COME, ponder well, for 'tis no jest, The priest he merry is and blithe He then is full of frights and fears, For then the farmers come, jog, jog, Each heart as heavy as a log, To make their payments good. In sooth, the sorrow of such days When he that takes and he that pays Now all unwelcome at his gates And well he may, for well he knows So in they come—each makes his leg, And not to quit a score. 'And how does miss and madam do, The little boy and all?' 'All tight and well. And how do you, Good Mr. What-d'ye-call?' The dinner comes, and down they sit: One wipes his nose upon his sleeve, Yet, not to give offence or grieve, The punch goes round, and they are dull Like barrels with their bellies full, At length the busy time begins, Come, neighbours, we must wag.'The money chinks, down drop their chins, Each lugging out his bag. One talks of mildew and of frost, And one of storms of hail, And one of pigs that he has lost By maggots at the tail. Quoth one, 'A rarer man than you O why are farmers made so coarse, A kick, that scarce would move a horse, Then let the boobies stay at home; ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO LONDON, THE NIGHT Of the 17th MARCH, 1789. WHEN, long sequester'd from his throne, Then, Loyalty, with all his lamps "Twas hard to tell, of streets or squares, Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires, And rockets flew, self-driven, To hang their momentary fires Amid the vault of heaven. |