9. How Good She Was

 

How good she was to take no rest,
For Adam’s apple is God blest,
And in creation’s circumstance,
There still walk serpents in their pants,
Who say they want the kind of fruit,
That God would not deny the brute.

Paradise lost, where knells are rung,
And since that time are dirges sung,
Yet Tories may, and Whigs also may,
In her appointment chamber lay,
And from the rib did she appear,
To keep us up all night with cheer.