Skip to main content
Poor, honest George, Swift's works to print:
Thy fortune's made, or nothing's in't.
Subscribers, a vast number, show
There is no want of money now.
The Dean's so great a man of taste,
I'll covet to read him in haste,
More from thy press, than any other:
Let what will happen to Fairbrother.
Rate this poem
No votes yet