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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

"The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Collected by Himself with Explanatory Notes"


N.B.--In places addicted to arson,
We can't recommend a wooden parson:
But if the Church any such appoints,
They'd better at least have iron joints.
In parts, not much by Protestants haunted,
A figure to _look at_'s all that's wanted--
A block in black, to eat and sleep,
Which (now that the eating's o'er) comes cheap.
P.S.--Should the Lords, by way of a treat,
Permit the clergy again to eat,
The Church will of course no longer need
Imitation-parsons that never feed;
And these _wood_ creatures of ours will sell
For secular purposes just as well--
Our Beresfords, turned to bludgeons stout,
May, 'stead of beating their own about,
Be knocking the brains of Papists out;
While our smooth O'Sullivans, by all means,
Should transmigrate into _turning_ machines.

[1] The materials of which those Nuremberg Savans, mentioned by
Scriblerus, constructed their artificial man.
[2] The wooden models used by painters are, it is well known, called "lay
figures".



HOW TO MAKE ONE'S SELF A PEER.
ACCORDING TO THE NEWEST RECEIPT AS DISCLOSED IN A LATE HERALDIC WORK,[1]
1834.

Choose some title that's dormant--the Peerage hath many--
Lord Baron of Shamdos sounds nobly as any.
Next, catch a dead cousin of said defunct Peer,
And marry him, off hand, in some given year,
To the daughter of somebody,--no matter who,--
Fig, the grocer himself, if you're hard run, will do;
For, the Medici _pills_ still in heraldry tell,
And why shouldn't _lollypops_ quarter as well?
Thus, having your couple, and one a lord's cousin,
Young materials for peers may be had by the dozen;
And 'tis hard if, inventing each small mother's son of 'em,
You can't somehow manage to prove _yourself_ one of 'em.


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