From the famous Peak of Derby, And the Devil's Arse there hard by, Where we yearly keep our musters, Thus the Egyptians throng in clusters. Be not frighted with our fashion, Though we seem a tattered nation; We account our rags our riches, So our tricks exceed our stitches. Give us bacon, rinds of walnuts, Shells of cockles, and of small nuts, Ribands, bells, and saffroned linen, All the world is ours to win in. Knacks we have that will delight you, Slights of hand that will invite you To endure our tawny faces, And not cause you cut your laces. All your fortunes we can tell ye, Be they for the back or belly: In the moods too, and the tenses, That may fit your fine five senses. Draw but then your gloves, we pray you, And sit still, we will not fray you; For though we be here at Burleigh, We'd be loth to make a hurly. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: A SUBTERRANEAN CITY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE PRISONER (A FRAGMENT) by EMILY JANE BRONTE AULD LANG SYNE by ROBERT BURNS TRUE UNTIL DEATH by ROBERT BURNS TO HESTER [SAVORY] by CHARLES LAMB ON CATULLUS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE CITY MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY [OR, GARDEN] MOUSE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI COQUETTE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): MEDEA'S HESITATION by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |