Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/394

382 "When thou, suspended high in air, Diest on a more ignoble tree, (For thou shalt steal thy landlord's mare), Then, bloody caitif! think on me."

never did man see A wretch like poor Nancy, So teas'd day and night By a dean and a knight. To punish my sins, Sir Arthur begins, And gives me a wipe With Skinny and Snipe: His malice is plain, Hallooing the dean. The dean never stops, When he opens his chops; I'm quite overrun With rebus and pun. Before he came here, To spunge for good cheer, I sate with delight, From morning till night, With two bony thumbs Could rub my old gums, Or scratching my nose, And jogging my toes; But at present, forsooth, I must not rub a tooth. When my elbows he sees Held up by my knees, My arms, like two props, Supporting my chops, And just as I handle 'em Moving all like a pendulum; He trips up my props, And down my chin drops, From my head to my heels, Like a clock without wheels; I sink