Short Poems

A young man and an aged man of late,
Being in a tavern, fell at great debate:
The youth thinking the testy fire to cool
Said, 'Turd i' thy teeth, thou crabbèd doting fool.'
At this the old man laughed, and made reply.
'Turd in his teeth that has teeth, none have I!'
So showed his gums, which made the young man laugh;
They both grew friends, and drank their liquor off.

“Who's that ringing at the front door bell?”
Miau! Miau! Miau!
“I'm a little Pussy Cat and I'm not very well!”
Miau! Miau! Miau!
“Then rub your nose in a bit of mutton fat.”
Miau! Miau! Miau!
“For that's the way to cure a little Pussy Cat.”
Miau! Miau! Miau!

Who seeks perfection in the art
Of driving well an ass and cart,
Or painting mountains in a mist,
Seeks God although an Atheist.

Willie boy, Willie boy, where are you going?
I will go with you, if I may.
I'm going to the meadows to see them mowing,
I'm going to see them make the hay.

Whoso maintains that I am humbled now
(Who wait the Awful Day) is still a liar;
I hope to meet my Maker brow to brow
And find my own the higher.

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

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.

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.

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.