Suffice it that I suffered loss—

'Twas not a pleasant sail.

My rising thoughts unable to control,

I drowned my sorrows in the waves that roll;

The sickly waves a tribute would demand,

Nor gave me rest till I obeyed command.

With much delight I traversed o'er

The land of Pats and praties,

And mourned to note from what I saw

That indolence their fate is.

A pipe stuck easy in their mouth

For mind and body food is;

Their dress, I must say, is uncouth,

For it next door to nude is....[Pg 4]

[Pg 4]

I'm speaking of the lower sort,

Not so bad are their betters;

Though some, who wealth find ready wrought,

Rest in luxurious fetters.

And have they been for ever so?

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