Of mutual flames and lovers' warmth, You must not be too nice; The sheet that I am writing on The Polar cold is sharp enough Pope says that letters waft a sigh So chilly is the Northern blast, A ton of Wallsend in a note In such a frigid latitude It scarce can be a sin, Should Passion cool a little, where A Fury was iced in. I'm rather tired of endless snow, I'm sick of dazzling ice and snow, The sun itself I hate; So very bright, so very cold, For opodeldoc I would kneel, Our food is solids,-ere we put Our meat into our crops, We take sledge-hammers to our steaks And hatchets to our chops. So cutting is the air, I never have been warm but once, When hugging with a bear. One thing I know you'll like to hear, I have no ear for music now; I've said that you should have my hand, Some happy day to come; But, Kate, you only now can wed Don't fear that any Esquimaux At wives with large estates of snow My fancy does not bite; I like to see a Bride but not In such a deal of white. Give me for home a house of brick, The Kate I love at Kew! To think upon the Bridge of Kew, God knows if I shall e'er return, CONVEYANCING. O, LONDON is the place for all, There's always hacks about in packs, Wherein you may be shaken, And Jarvis is not always drunk, Tho' always overtaken; In racing tricks he'll never mix, His nags are in their last days, And slow to go, altho' they show As if they had their fast days! Then if you like a single horse, As those of our Queen Mab age; The horses have been broken well, All danger is rescinded, For some have broken both their knees And some are broken winded. If you've a friend at Chelsea end, Lon stages run from every yard; "Ye banks and braes,” and other lays, And ditties everlasting, Like miners going all your way, With boring and with blasting. Instead of journeys, people now Tho' with a load it may explode, And you may all be un-done! And find you're going up to Heaven, Instead of up to London ! |