Maxioms by Aaron Hill
A man may cry, Church! Church! at ev'ry word,
With no pore piety than other people--
A read more
A man may cry, Church! Church! at ev'ry word,
With no pore piety than other people--
A daw's not reckoned a religious bird
Because it keeps a-cawing from a steeple.
Just as the felon condemn'd to die--
With a very natural loathing--
Leaving the sheriff to dream read more
Just as the felon condemn'd to die--
With a very natural loathing--
Leaving the sheriff to dream of ropes,
From his gloomy cell in a vision elopes,
To caper on sunny greens and slopes,
Instead of the dance upon nothing.
Look here, he cries (to give him words):
Thou feathered clay, thou scum of birds!
Look here, read more
Look here, he cries (to give him words):
Thou feathered clay, thou scum of birds!
Look here, thou vile, predestined sinner,
Doomed to be roasted for a dinner.
There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in melancholy.
There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in melancholy.
Hundreds of men were turned into beasts,
Like the guests at Circe's horrible feasts,
By the magic read more
Hundreds of men were turned into beasts,
Like the guests at Circe's horrible feasts,
By the magic of ale and cider.
