MOTHER PESTCOME! none denies
You were ever true.. to Lies.
So the Father of them all
Helps you up at every fall,
Putting money in your pocket,
Showing armlet, showing locket,
Showing where you lately found
That poor nurse’s lost five-pound.
Pay me down the debt you owe
For such praise as few bestow.
I can never take for this
Tottering teeth and slobbering kiss;
Teeth, to say the least, as long
As another woman’s tongue;
Some athwart like wind-mill sails,
Others fitter for park-pales:
Kiss as foul as muskets are
After the Crimean war.
I will tell you briefly what
I just now am driving at.
Tho’ you’ve made her pale and thin
As the child of Death by Sin,
When you’ve done with Caroline
Bid her for a night be mine;
You shall have her all the day
Following, to repeat our play.
Whether you do this or not,
What is done is unforgot;
Fate for you shall sheathe her shears,
You shall live some hundred years.