An Epitaph on old Oliver

LIe light, thou Earth, on Noll's soft Noddle;
His Corps in Putrefaction coddle.
Lie light, that Dogs may smell and rave
To scratch the Tyrant from his Grave:
That Dogs may lay his Carcase bare,
And Messes of his Mummy tear.
Dogs his polluted Gelly sup,
And dig the Devil's Relicks up.