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Preface.
Good people all, both short and tall,
I’ve got a little news,
For I’m just come, by rail from Rome,—
So listen to my muse.
’Tis Gaffer Pope, who lost to hope,
Now speaks to all quite surly;
And by his fire, pens quire on quire,
About this hurly-burly!
With wax a deal, and great round seal,
He every where is sending;
For “HOLINESS” is in a mess,
That’s really quite heart-rending.
Poor “Boots,” his man, fast as he can,
Runs to and fro to—post;
His lanthorn frame, (’tis quite a shame,)
Is worn down to a ghost.
