Samuel Butler

For his religion, it was fit
To match his learning and his wit;
'Twas Presbyterian true blue;
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For his religion, it was fit
To match his learning and his wit;
'Twas Presbyterian true blue;
For he was of that stubborn crew
Of errant saints, whom all men grant
To be the true Church Militant;
Such as do build their faith upon
The holy text of pike and gun;
Decide all controversies by
Infallible artillery;
And prove their doctrine orthodox,
By Apostolic blows and knocks.

She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say read more

She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say of her they mean
No more than on the thing they lean.

'Tis virtue, wit, and worth, and all
That men divine and sacred call;
For what is worth, read more

'Tis virtue, wit, and worth, and all
That men divine and sacred call;
For what is worth, in anything,
But so much money as 't will bring?

But still his tongue ran on, the less
Of weight it bore, with greater ease.

But still his tongue ran on, the less
Of weight it bore, with greater ease.

'Tis not amiss, ere ye're giv'n o'er,
To try one desp'rate med'cine more;
For where your case read more

'Tis not amiss, ere ye're giv'n o'er,
To try one desp'rate med'cine more;
For where your case can be no worse,
The desp'rat'st is the wisest course.