God having a hemorrhage,
Blood coughed across the sky,
Staining the dark sea red,
That is sunset in the Caribbean.

Child of St. Catherine—none shall groan
If to your gain and our great loss
You turn the wheel of all the world
And heave to sight the southern cross.
Though o'er the nether pole of night
Southward the southern signals burn,
Catherine, hold tryst and keep the faith,
And wheels revolve but wheels return.

For well Thou knowest, O God most wise,
How good on earth was his gift to me.
Shall this be a little thing in thine eyes
That is greater in mine than the whole great sea?

Prince, Yorkshire holds me now
By Yorkshire hams I'm fed
I can't assist your row
I send ballades instead.

When a Roman was dying, the next man or kin
Stood over him gaping to take his breath in.
Were Tisdall the same way to blow out his brea[th],
Such a whiff to the living were much worse than d[eath].
Any man with a nose would much rather die;
So would Jack, so would Dan, so would you, so would I.
Without a reproach to the doctor I think
Whenever he dies, he must die with a stink.

They say she died,—
Although I do not know,
They say she died of grief
And in the earth-dark arms of Death
Sought calm relief,
And rest from pain of love
In loveless sleep.

Two kids slept separately,
arm's length apart, but they rolled toward each other,
and ended up together.

Tusser, they tell me when thou wert alive,
Thou teaching thrift, thy self couldst never thrive;
So like the whetstone many men are wont
To sharpen others when themselves are blunt.

“Tu-whitt, Tu-whitt, Tu-whoo, Tu-whoo,
Good night to me, good night to you.”
'Tis the old white owl in the ivy tree,
But I can't see him, and he can't see me!

Dear Tom, I'm surprised that your verse did not jingle;
But your rhyme was not double, 'cause your sight was but single.
For, as Helsham observes, there's nothing can chime
Or fit more exact than one eye and one rhyme.
If you had not took physic, I'd pay off your bacon,
But now I'll write short, for fear you're short-taken.
Besides, Dick forbid me, and called me a fool;
For he says, short as 'tis, it will give you a stool.