To the Laud and Praise of a Shock Bitch

LEt lofty Greek and Latin go,
And Priscian crackt from top to Toe,
Since he at School full often so Misus'd us;
From High and mighty Lines I fall,
At powerful Shock's imperious Call,
And now in downright Doggrel crawl My Muse does.
Tho' my froze Hogs-head e'ne is burst,
I'le do what none before e're durst,
And on her Praises make the first Adventure;
O for some Album-Graecum now!
'Twould clear my musty pipes I trow;
Then would I yelp as loud as thou,
Old Stentor!
Come hither Shock; I'll ne'r complain,
Nor kick thee from my Lap again,
Tho' other Lips thy Mouth so dainty touches;
Give me one Buss, I'le prize thee more
Than tinsil'd Lord does brazen Whore;
Or then—or then—or then—or then No-body.
Let lowsie Poets sit and chat
Of Money, and they know not what!
Of Love, and Honour, and all that So silly!
Let Play-house-Hero's live or dy,
Or spew, or stink, or swear, or lye,
To court the Glance of one bright Eye From Philly!
Let the entranced loving Ass
A Picture wooe, and buss the Glass,
Covering his Mistresses surpassing Beauty!
Then steal from Cowley, or from Don,
(Since none will miss 'em when They 're gon)
Two hundred thousand Stanza's on
Her Shoo-ty!
All other Fairs avaunt, avaunt,
For Shock's sweet praise my Muse must chaunt,
And sweat, (ah, wou'd she wou'd!) in Rant Extatic.
'Tis Shock alone is my desire,
She does my addled pate inspire,
As much as any Muse, with Fire Poetic.
View every Limb in every part,
From Head to Tail, from Rump to Heart,
You 'll find she not one Pin from Art Has gotten;
When Courtly Dames so gawdy, tho'
They dress their mouths in pimlico,
A Dog won't touch 'em, they are so Ripe-rotten.
Muse, what d'ye mean? what Flesh can stay,
And dive in Helicon to day,
Or swim in any Streams but Aqua-vitae?
Put up your Pipes, to dinner go,
Whilest I dismiss the Guests below:
You 're welcome Gentlemen! and so, Good-buy-t'y'e!