Classic Poem

O THOU who didst furnish
The fowls of the air
With loverly feathers
For leydies to wear,
Receive this Petition
For blessin an aid,
From the principal Ouses
Engaged in the Trade.

The trouble's as follows:
A white-livered Scum,
What if they was choked
'Twould be better for some,
'S been pokin about an
Creatin a fuss
An talkin too loud to be
Ealthy for us.

Thou'lt ardly believe
Ow damn friendly they are,
They say ther's a time
In the future not far
When birds worth good money'll
Waste by the ton
And the Trade can look perishin
Pleased to look on:

With best lines in Paradies
Equal to what
Is fetchin a pony
A time in the at.
An ospreys an ummins
An other choice goods
Wastefully oppin
About in the woods.

They're kiddin the papers
An callin us names,
Not Yorkshire ones neither,
That's one of their games;
They've others as pleasin
An soakin with spite,
An it don't make us appy,
Ow can it do, quite!

We thank Thee most earty
For mercies to date,
The Olesales is pickin
Nice profits per crate,
Reports from the Retails
Is pleasin to read,
We certainly thank Thee
Most earty indeed.

Vouchsafe, then, to muzzle
These meddlesome swine,
An learn mdash to andle goods
More in their line,
Be faithful, be foxy
Till peril is past,
An plant Thy strong sword
In their livers at last.