Classic Poem

I'd have you t' know, George, Dan, Dean, 'nd Nim,
That I've learn'd how verse t' compose trim,
Much better b' half th'n you, n'r you, n'r him,
And th't I'd rid'cule their, 'nd your flam-flim.
" Ay' b't then, p'rhaps, " says you, " t's a m'rry whim
With 'bundance of mark'd notes i' th' rim. "
So th't I ought n't for t' be morose 'nd t' look grim,
Think n't your 'p'stle put m' in a megrim;
Though 'n Rep't't'on Day I 'ppear ver' slim,
Th' last bowl " t Helsham's did m' head t' swim,
So th't I h'd man' aches 'n 'v'ry scrubb'd limb,
Cause th' top of th' bowl I h'd oft us'd t' skim;
And b'sides D'lan' swears th't I h'd swall'w'd s'v'r'l brim-
mers, 'nd that my vis'ge's cov'r'd o'er with r'd pim-
ples: m'r'o'er though m' skull were ('s 'tis n't) 's strong 's tim-
ber, 't must have ach'd. Th' clans of th' C'llege Sanh'drim
Pres'nt th'r humbl' and 'fect'nate respects; that's t' say,
D'l'n', 'chlin, P. Ludl', Dic' St'wart, H'lsham, Capt'n
P'rr' Walmsl', " nd Longsh'nks Tim.