360
SWIFT'S POEMS.
III. Another[1].
THE church and clergy here, no doubt,
Are very near akin;
Both weatherbeaten are without:
And empty both within.
IV. At Chester.
My landlord is civil,
But dear as the d—l:
Your pockets grow empty,
With nothing to tempt ye:
The wine is so sour,
'Twill give you a scour:
The beer and the ale
Are mingled with stale.
The veal is such carrion,
A dog would be weary on.
All this I have felt.
For I live on a smelt.
V. Another, in Chester.
THE walls of this town
Are full of renown,
And strangers delight to walk round 'em:
But as for the dwellers,
Both buyers and sellers,
For me, you may hang 'em, or drown 'em.
VI.
