Classic Poem

L ET'S charme some Poet from his grave
That many Ages hath beene dead
A nuptiall ode this night must have
To bring the Bridegroome to his bed.
So ould so wondrous old
That his chin felt the weight
Of an Aldermans beard
Before eighty-eight.

His thin mustachoe still decayes
Like winters snow chilld into cares.
But cause hee's rich weele change our phrase
And call his graynesse silver hayres.
So ould &c.

A Hayre or 2 is all the tithe
That from his bald pate you can gather
Give him an houre glasse or a sithe
You 'le stile him time or else Times father.
So ould &c.

His brinish Spittle from his Jawes
Hangs dingle dangle to his Coate
Like Hocus Pocus when hee draws
Some yards of riband through his throat.
So ould.

In summer time to cause a sweate
Hee layes on 30 foulds of clothes
Yet all this will not get him heate
But pus a dropping at the nose
(So ould &c.

And when hee coughs to hold his back
A man would thinke that hee was gone.
His gutts within him they do crack
Like eele-skinns dryed in the Sun
so ould &c.

But let not this his bride offend
Ould men are twice children rightly stild
If hee be able to ascend
Tis ten to one shee bears a child
So ould so wond &c.