John Gay

How many saucy airs we meet,
From Temple Bar to Aldgate street!

How many saucy airs we meet,
From Temple Bar to Aldgate street!

Brother, brother; we are both in the wrong.

Brother, brother; we are both in the wrong.

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.

Why is the hearse with scutcheons blazon'd round,
And with the nodding plume of ostrich crown'd?
No; read more

Why is the hearse with scutcheons blazon'd round,
And with the nodding plume of ostrich crown'd?
No; the dead know it not, nor profit gain;
It only serves to prove the living vain.

I never, with important air,
In conversation overbear.
. . . .
My tongue read more

I never, with important air,
In conversation overbear.
. . . .
My tongue within my lips I rein;
For who talks much must talk in vain.