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July.
You did!—'Twas love from the grave indeed!
From bloodless cheeks, and brainless head!—
O! I wish you much joy!—I hear't spoke,
Of young fiscals you'll soon have a flock,
That, the night before last, Mistress Grue
Brought you two boys with little ado!
Mr Grue.
Where the duce picked you up that cursed lie?
For neither a boy, nor girl, have I!—
July.
Mayhap! o' the Snipe 't has been been the wife.
Mr Grue.
The Snipe! He bring a creature to life!
With thighs like the legs of a sparrow,
Smoked hams wanting blood, and bones marrow.
Marry—come—up! with his withered shins,
A pretty one indeed to get twins!
You're hard pushed sure, when, down the water,
You seek him, to father such chatter!
You'd best give them to your friend up stairs;
All his weans, 'tis said, are sent in pairs.—
Did you observe the shaughland legged wight,
With his poker, in the yard alight?
July.
Tush!—I must go get supper, and beer.
When they've done with beggars, boys, and wives,
The peevish wretch will pester our lives,
