Classic Poem

My gen'rous Friend, at your Request,
I come to swell the Chorus ;
To hail the Night, your Liquor taste,
And eat up what's before us.

Long may your Nanny fill your Arms,
And mutual Love continue!
So prays the Bard, who sung her Charms,
And strove to get between you.

Be now that envious Scene forgot — —
You knew the Art of Wooing — —
Yet let the Muse ask freely — — What
Her Rival has been doing?

E're now, 'twas thought, two Bantlings small,
With Musick would surround her,
But Heav'ns! I see no Sign at all — —
As flat as any Flounder!

'Tis true, you promis'd well at first — —
O had our Pleasure lasted!
But must the generous Tree be curs'd,
Because the Fruit was blasted?

Not so our Fathers us'd the Bed;
Their Tillage brought forth plenty — —
First Cousins, wedded and to wed,
We are not less than Twenty.

Among us lies a World of Pelf,
Must all this go to Strangers?
No Faith! — — To get some Heirs myself,
I'll run thro' fifty Dangers!

For shame, Sam , pluck thy Spirits up!
This very Night prevent me — —
And, when next Year we come to sup,
Say, This the Gods have sent me .