John Gay

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.

Now Cynthia, named fair regent of the night.

Now Cynthia, named fair regent of the night.

A lost good name is ne'er retriev'd.

A lost good name is ne'er retriev'd.

Brother, brother; we are both in the wrong.

Brother, brother; we are both in the wrong.

A woman scorn'd is pitiless as fate,
For then the dread of shame adds stings to hate.

A woman scorn'd is pitiless as fate,
For then the dread of shame adds stings to hate.