Classic Poem

Pless hur prave Eyes! hur's half afraid
To speak the Ferse now hur was made.
But lest you think hur Prains a Dunce,
Look you! hur'll out with it at once;
St Tavy! tho' hur's wrong sometimes,
Hur'll sure, and give you all the Rhymes:
If not, hur hopes you'll grant Excuses,
Nor sit like Judges on her Muses.
Hur Heart e'en quakes within hur Guts;
Hur pegs you would not hang the Sluts.
Well then — and so hur Speech begins —
Hur guess you like it by your Grins.
Hur hope hur Nation's not the worst,
We're all porn Shentlemans at first.
Tho' saucy Infamies wou'd blot hur,
Hur's sure Cadwallader begot hur.
Inteed, hur owns, on steep Welsh Rocks
Hard Fate constrains to seed hur Flocks.
What then, Cood Deeds! hur Pook can see,
King's was kept Flocks as well as she.
What's hur with that outlandish Name,
Whose Freaks set old Troy Town in Flame?
Hur there? pho, pho! I pray you Silence,
Why what? I read hur Name a while hence,
Paris — yes now — (hur wish him whipt)
Who saw three Goddesses unstript,
And Menelaus ' good 'Omans made ill,
Why was a Goatherd from hur Cradle;
Tho' was a King inteed, for all yet,
And liv'd on — Ide (I think they call it):
That Ide , tho' held such pig Account in,
Hur warr'nt is like hur own Welsh Mountain.
Hur knows the Story of the Moon,
How the coy Swain she puss'd at Noon,
Fair Dymion — Hur can boast beside
God Pan , and some as good beside.
But where was any she cou'd mention
Like hur St Tavy for Invention?
(Was hur own Namesake too, an't save ye,
Pray you, hur own porn Name was Tavy .)
He, Creestian Soul! for want of Cats,
Contriv'd the Mouse-Trap for the Rats;
Shew'd how vile Monster might be taken,
Great Act! and sav'd hur Country's Pacon;
And Tairies of such Vermin swept,
Py English too in Membrance kept;
For which each March , as Pooks relate,
Hur's hang'd in Effigy for State;
Not, as some Fulgars think, in spight,
On purpose to provoke one's Shite;
But plac'd in honourable Station,
In Mem'ry of hur famous Nation;
With the renown'd Red-Herring py hur,
That draw'd poor Mouses in the Wire;
And in hur Crown, in Feather's stead,
Sticks a huge Leek to grace hur Head:
Prave Leek, whose Sight and Smell they say,
Did fright hur Country's Foes away.

But hold you now! hur pray your Patience,
Hur's got a World of strange Relations,
Of bold Sir Shinking let hur tell,
St Winifred , and of hur Well;
Of Owen too, that Witch Glendower ,
With all hur Imps, and twenty more.
Of such fam'd Tales hur's got a Flock,
Was last an Hour out by the Clock.
Hur's thro' 'em all now hur's begun,
Not she, hur cares not when hur's done.
Grant, ' Pollo , what hur will rehearse
May have but all their Legs in Ferse.
Hur's worst at Rhyme — ud splutter Nails!
Poor Pard to sing in praise of Wales!
Hur's think hur Pribbles and hur Prabbles
Was better serve to please the Rabbles.
Hold — Mem'ry fails hur, hur's in doubt —
Ay — look you sure — poor Tavy 's out.
Hur pegs hur may not spoil hur Part,
But let hur read the rest py Heart.
Pless hur! — some Knafe was stole hur Notes —
Hur'll home, good lack! and feed hur Goats.