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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

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


Good Viscount SIDMOUTH, too, instead
Of his own grave, respected head,
Might wear (for aught I see that bars)
Old Lady WILHELMINA FRUMP'S--
So while the hand signed _Circulars_,
The head might lisp out "What is trumps?"--
The REGENT'S brains could we transfer
To some robust man-milliner,
The shop, the shears, the lace, and ribbon
Would go, I doubt not, quite as glib on;
And, _vice versa_, take the pains
To give the PRINCE the shopman's brains,
One only change from thence would flow,
_Ribbons_ would not be wasted so.
'Twas thus I pondered on, my Lord;
And, even at night, when laid in bed,
I found myself, before I snored,
Thus chopping, swopping head for head.
At length I thought, fantastic elf!
How such a change would suit _myself_.
'Twixt sleep and waking, one by one,
With various pericraniums saddled,
At last I tried your Lordship's on,
And then I grew completely addled--
Forgot all other heads, od rot 'em!
And slept, and dreamt that I was--BOTTOM.
_August 21_.
Walked out with daughter BID--was shown
The House of Commons and the Throne,
Whose velvet cushion's just the same
NAPOLEON sat on--what a shame!
Oh! can we wonder, best of speechers,
When LOUIS seated thus we see,
That France's "fundamental features"
Are much the same they used to be?
However,--God preserve the Throne,
And _cushion_ too--and keep them free;
From accidents, which _have_ been known
To happen even to Royalty![4]
_August 28_.


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