Classic Poem

JOLLY PHOEBUS his car to the coach-house had driven,
And unharnessed his high-mettled horses of light;
He gave them a feed from the manger of heaven,
And rubbed them and littered them up for the night.

Then down to the kitchen he leisurely strode,
Where Thetis, the housemaid, was sipping her tea;
He swore he was tired with that damn'd up-hill road,
He'd have none of her slops nor hot water, not he.

So she took from the corner a little cruiskeen.
Well filled with nectar Apollo loves best;
(From the neat Bog of Allen, some pretty poteen),
And he tippled his quantum and staggered to rest.

His many-caped box-coat around him he threw,
For his bed, faith, 'twas dampish, and none of the best;
All above him the clouds their bright fringed curtains drew,
And the tuft of his nightcap lay red in the west.