The New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser

Parnassian Spring.

A LETTER
To a Welsh Parson, from his Friend in a
Lock-up-House.

My dearest friend, Morgan,

Pray tune up your organ
Of spirits, and play a tune merry.
I have just drank your health,
With an increase of wealth,
In bumpers of six years old sherry.
Defying all evil,
Despising the devil,
And you know, as I know, he's a hum;
A mere cheat, like the law,
Under whose cursed claw
I've been griped—by a rascally bum.
But plaintiff's attorney,
Who arrested my journey
Towards home, is honest, what wonder!
Wonders more! in the house
I'm locked up, man and spouse
Good natured are scorning to plunder.
My wife's here, not teasing,
But smiling and pleasing,
Converting misfortunes to blisses;
And her two diamond eyes
Above India I prize,
The world could not purchase her kisses.
Then why should I despond,
Though my body's in bond
For a man would himself bind for me.
Sweet friendship, true love,
Sure the act will approve,
And my soul, thank my God, is still free.