Maxioms by John Gay
Brother, brother; we are both in the wrong.
Brother, brother; we are both in the wrong.
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
How bless'd, how envied, were our life,
Could we but scape the poulterer's knife!
But man, curs'd read more
How bless'd, how envied, were our life,
Could we but scape the poulterer's knife!
But man, curs'd man, on Turkeys preys,
And Christmas shortens all our days:
Sometimes with oysters we combine,
Sometimes assist the savory chine;
From the low peasant to the lord,
The Turkey smokes on every board.
That Raven on yon left-hand oak
(Curse on his ill-betiding croak)
Bodes me no good.
That Raven on yon left-hand oak
(Curse on his ill-betiding croak)
Bodes me no good.
The careful insect 'midst his works I view,
Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew,
With read more
The careful insect 'midst his works I view,
Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew,
With golden treasures load his little thighs,
And steer his distant journey through the skies.
