Classic Poem

When as the Night-raven sung Pluto's Mattins,
And Cerberus cried three Amens at a houle;
When night-wandring Witches put on their pattins,
Midnight as darke as their faces are foule,
Then did the Furies doome
That my night-mare should come;
Such a mishapen gume
Puts downe Su. Pomfret cleane.
Never did Incubus
Touch such a filthy Sus,
As was this foule Gipsie Queane.

First on her gooseberry cheekes I mine eyes blasted;
Thence feare of vomiting made me retire
Unto her blewer lips, which when I tasted,
My spirits were duller than Dun in the mire.
But then her breath tooke place,
Which went an ushers pace,
And made way for her face;
You may guesse what I meane.
Never did, &c.

Like Snakes engendring were platted her tresses,
Or like the slimy streakes of ropy Ale;
Uglier than Envy weares, when she confesses
Her head is perewigg'd with Adders taile.
But as soone as she spake,
I heard a harsh Mandrake:
Laugh not at my mistake,
Her head is Epicaene.
Never did, &c.

Mysticall Magicke of conjuring wrinckles,
Feeling of pulses, the Palmestry of Haggs,
Scolding out belches for Rhetoricke twinckles,
With three teeth in her head like to three gaggs;
Rainebowes about her eyes,
And her nose weatherwise;
From them their Almanacke lies
Frost, Pond, and Rivers gleane.
Never did, &c.