Classic Poem

Oh ! Happy F—ck , thou alone art he,
From jealous Stings and forked Antlers free;
No am'rous Coxcombs clutter round thy Bar,
To breathe their Passions in thy Help-mate's Ear;
Or at thy Bride their squinting Glances throw;
Whilst thou art mixing fatal Wines below,
Such that with scorching Fevers fill our Veins,
And with inebrious Fumes distract our Brains.
 The bouncing Partner of thy nuptial Joys,
Who crowds thy Nurs'ry with such thumping Boys,
Graces the Confines of her chaulky Throne,
At least with two Cart-loads of Flesh and Bone;
And seems, by her huge Sarazanick Face,
To be deriv'd of old Tagenna 's Race;
Who was, if ancient Writers do not lye,
Twelve Fathom thick, and seventy Cubits high.
But thine's a Fairy to so tall a Dame,
And cannot tow'r to such a lofty Fame;
Yet none that ever view'd her, makes a Doubt,
But that she's six Foot high, and twelve about;
Yet sh'as such Charms in her gigantick Face,
And moves with such an Elephant-like Grace,
That were Antœus living, thou might'st dread
A Rival then, that might adorn thy Head.
But since Mankind to Pigmies are declin'd,
And no such monstrous Men we now can find,
Thou'rt safe from all the horned Plagues that wait
On Love, and need not fear Acteon 's Fate;
For tho' thy Bride appears so fat and fine,
She's far too big for any Arms but thine.
 What, tho' no Moon at full, with all her Light,
Can shew a Countenance more large and bright;
And that her snowy Breasts look big, and spread,
Like two Peck Loaves of whitest Flour made;
Yet who can tell but that which hidden lies,
May prove by chance of a delightful Size,
Since Greenland Sea-men from Experience note,
That the huge Whale has but a narrow Throat:
The mighty Monster, arm'd with Iv'ry Tooth,
Tho' large his Limbs, has but a little Mouth.
 What, tho' her Belly looks as if she bore,
Beneath her Clouts, a Sack of Malt before,
To keep the spacious Centre of her Charms
Beyond the justful Reach of common Arms;
For her Temptation, as she upright stands,
Lies too remote by much, for human Hands;
And from Assaults and Bobs is safe and free,
'Till Love's huge Pillars are disclos'd for thee.
 What, tho' her swelling Buttocks chafe behind,
And like too Mill-stones, as she waddles, grind,
It is a pleasing Sign she has no need
Of artful Pillows in her Nuptial Bed;
But that sh'as Flesh enough, when hugg'd at Night,
To raise her Charms to a convenient Height.
 Therefore make much of thy gigantick Bride,
For all the World believes she never try'd
Love's tickling Joys with any Man beside.