Classic Poem

Now for a Nap or two,
I think it so may be;
Look here, for Sir has brought you what
You do not love to see.

A Prelate with his Notes,
So you your Eyes will shut;
And sure 'tis thus with Sleep oft-times
You do yourself forget.

Well let him bear the blame,
If you excus'd must be;
Because you work from Morning Light,
As long as you can see.

But pray, why so much care
For Meat that perish shall?
Less careful for the Bread of Life,
Say, is the Body all?

The Soul is sure the noblest part,
And needs our utmost Care;
We'er not our own, bought with a Price
We cost the Saviour dear.

This better part did Mary chuse,
While Martha full of Care;
The rich Man in the Gospel too,
His Riches were his Snare.

And now my Freedom pray excuse,
You may say with a sneer,
And have you never sleepy been?
Pray of yourself beware.

Yes, I do own it, to my shame,
Sleep has o'er power'd me;
But this is grievous sure to bear,
And hateful for to see.