Classic Poem

As I have at present but very little Time,
Without endeavouring after the Stile sublime,
I'll send thee a Letter in plain Country Rhime,
Such as we were wont to use in our own native Clime.

When a-down Coley long Lane we us'd to walk,
With Ambrose , and with Joseph , and with many more young Folk:
Where of Nanny, Sally, Becky , and Jenny we would so talk;
And sometimes upon the Benches write their Names in Chalk.

O how the pleasing Thought my Breast inflames:
Fain would I grow harmonious on the Names
Of all those lovely Nymphs of Kennet and of Thames!

But, as I said before, I must let my Fancy flag!
And only inform thee that I have lately play'd the Wag,
And publish'd a Poem, entitled, The Hunting of the Stag ;
Occasion'd by a certain Great Man 's tumbling from his Nag —
I mean a greater Man than the noted Sir Robert Fag .

I have made my Stag therein very boldly reason,
And, Faith, some People tell me he almost thinks Treason;
For which the aforesaid Great Man may chance to seize one,
And clap one up, as the Saying is, in a Prison.

From thence, they aver, I may be advanc'd to a Place,
(Some affirm 'tis an Honour, others assert 'tis a Disgrace)
Thro' three Peep-holes to thrust my two Fists and my Face;
And suffer a whole Hour the Rage of the Populace.

Now, as I know you have long ow'd me a Grudge,
Because to come and see you I so very seldom budge,
That Day to Charing-Cross I would have you trudge,
That there, among the Mob, with rotten Eggs you may drudge.

But if you would have the Book before they are all engross'd,
You may send a Waterman for it with very little Cost;
I don't care to trust it by the Penny Post,
For Fear the wonderful Productions of my Brain should be lost.

Besides, if you send a Messenger, he may bring
The trim Sonnets which Johnny Gay did whilom sing;
For well I weet you promis'd me such a Thing:
And I hope you make some Conscience of Promising
So no more at present, but remaining

Your Friend and Servant, I conclude
This my Epistle short and rude .