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He has no scull, 'tis well known
To thousands of beholders ;

Nothing but a skin

Does keep his brains in
From running about his shoulders.



On both sides of his noddle
Are straps o' th' very same leather ;

Ears are imply'd,

But they 're mere hide,
Or morsels of tripe, chuse ye whether.

Between these two extendeth
A Nit from ear to ear,

That every hour

Gapes to devour The fowce that grows

so near.


Beneath, a tuft of bristles,
As rough as a frize-jerkin;

If it had been a beard,

'Twould have serv'd a herd Of goats, that are of his near kin.


Within, a set of grinders
Most sharp and keen, corroding

Your iron and brass

As easy as
That you would do a pudding.

55 But

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The winds did blow, the thunder
And lightning loud did rumble;

The dogs did howl,

The hollow tree in th’ owl
'Tis a good horse that ne'er fumbled..

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Ver. 13, 14.] This whimsical liberty our Author takes, of transposing the words for the sake of a rhyme, though at the expence of the sense, is a new kind of poetic licence; and it is merry enough to observe, that he literally does, what he jokingly charges upon other poets in another place;.

But those that write in rhyme still make
The one verse for the other's sake;
For one for sense, and one for rhyme,
I think, 's sufficient at one time.

Hud. p. II. c. i. V. 29.

And out o' th' top o' th' chimney
He vanish’d, seen of none;

For they did wink,

Yet by the stink
Knew which way he was gone.


The country round about there
Became like to a wildern-

-ness ; for the fight

of him did fright Away men, women, and children.


Long did he there continue,
And all those parts, much harmed,

Till a wife-woman, which

Some call a white witch, Him into a hog-sty charmed.



There, when she had him fhut faft,
With brimstone and with nitre

She fing'd the claws

Of his left paws,
With tip of his tail, and his right ear.


And with her charms and ointments
She made him tame as a spaniel ;

For the us'd to ride

On his back aftride, Nor did he do her any ill.

50 But,

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Ver. 61.] From this circumstance it


that this Ballad was wrote before the murder of the King, and that it is the earliest performance of Butler's that has yet been made public; and I think one may, without prejudice, affirm, that it does no discredit to his younger years.



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