Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/336

324 A joiner, to fasten a saint in a nitch, Bor'd a large auger-hole in the image's breech. But, finding the statue to make no complaint, He would ne'er be convinc'd it was a true saint. When the true Wood arrives, as he soon will, no doubt, (For that's but a sham Wood they carry about ;) What stuff he is made of you quickly may find, If you make the same trial, and bore him behind. I'll hold you a groat, when you wimble his bum, He'll bellow as loud as the Devil in a drum. From me, I declare, you shall have no denial; And there can be no harm in making a trial: And, when to the joy of your hearts he has roar'd, You may show him about for a new groaning board. Hear one story more, and then I will stop. I dreamt Wood was told he should die by a drop: So methought he resolved no liquor to taste, For fear the first drop might as well be his last. But dreams are like oracles; 'tis hard to explain 'em; For it prov'd that he died of a drop at Kilmainham. I wak'd with delight; and not without hope, Very soon to see Wood drop down from a rope. How he, and how we, at each other should grin! 'Tis kindness to hold a friend up by the chin. But soft! says the Herald; I cannot agree; For metal on metal is false heraldry. Why, that may be true; yet Wood upon Wood, I'll maintain with my life, is heraldry good. TO