John Byrom

I make a declaration every spring,
Of reformation ere the year run out,
But somehow this my read more

I make a declaration every spring,
Of reformation ere the year run out,
But somehow this my vestal vary takes wing.

As fierce as hell, or fiercer still,
A woman piqued who has her will.

As fierce as hell, or fiercer still,
A woman piqued who has her will.

I love my neighbor as myself,
Myself like him too, by his leave,
Nor to his pleasure, read more

I love my neighbor as myself,
Myself like him too, by his leave,
Nor to his pleasure, power or pelf
Came I to crouch, as I conceive.
Dame Nature doubtless has designed
A man the monarch of his mind.

His eyes
Were with his heart. and that was far away.

His eyes
Were with his heart. and that was far away.

Dreading that climax of all earthly ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.

Dreading that climax of all earthly ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.