The doctor's family came by,
And little miss began to cry,
Give me that house in my own hand!
Then madam bade the chariot stand,
Call'd to the clerk, in manner mild,
Pray, reach that thing here to the child:
That thing, I mean, among the kale;
And here's to buy a pot of ale.
The clerk said to her in a heat,
What! sell my master's country seat,
Where he comes every week from town!
He would not sell it for a crown.
Poh! fellow, keep not such a pother;
In half an hour thou'lt make another.
Says Nancy,[6] I can make for miss
A finer house ten times than this;
The dean will give me willow sticks,
And Joe my apron-full of bricks.
[Footnote 1: Mr. Beaumont of Trim, remarkable, though not a very old man,
for venerable white locks.--_Scott_. He had a claim on the Irish
Government, which Swift assisted him in getting paid. See "Prose Works,"
vol. ii, Journal to Stella, especially at p. 174, respecting Joe's desire
for a collector's place.--_W. E. B._]
[Footnote 2: Archdeacon Wall, a correspondent of Swift's.--_Dublin
Edition_.]
[Footnote 3: Dr. Swift's curate at Laracor.]
[Footnote 4: Stella.]
[Footnote 5: Minister of Trim.
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