Epigram

A MEMBER of the modern Great
Pass'd Sawney with his budget,
The peer was in a car of state,
The tinker forc'd to trudge it.

But Sawney shall receive the praise
His lordship would parade for;
One's debtor for his dapple greys,
And t'others shoes are paid for.

To Wasteall, whose eyes were just closing in death,
Doll counted the chalks on the door;
" In peace, " cry'd the wretch, " let me give up my breath,
And Fate will soon rub out my score. "

" Come, bailiffs, " cries Doll, " (how I'll hamper this cheat!)
Let the law be no longer delay'd,
I never once heard of that fellow call'd Fate,
And, by G — d, he shan't die till I'm paid. "