But do not eat them till you're ill,
And always first take off the chill,
And swallow your ices warm.
Shiver-and-Shakery, &e.
THE CORK LEG
A Tale I now tell without any flam,
In Holland dwelt Mynheer Von Clam,
Who every morning said I am
The richest merchant in Rotterdam,
Ri too ral, &c.
One day he stuff'd him full as an egg,
When a poor relation came to beg:
But he kick'd him out without broaching a keg
And in kicking him out he broke his right leg
Ri too ral, &c.
Au artist in Rotterdam, 'twould seem,
Had made cork legs his study and theme;
Each joint was as strong as an iron beam
The springs a compound of clockwork and steam
Ri too ral, &c.
The leg was made and fitted right
Inspection th' artist did invite:
The fine shape gave Minheer great delight,
As he fixed it on and screw'd it tight.
Ri too ral, &c.
He walk'd through squares, and past each shop
Of speed he went to the very top;
Each step he took with a bound and a hop,
But he found his leg he could not stop.
Ri too ral, &c
Horror and fright were in his face,
The neighbours thought he was running a race
He clung to a post to stay its pace,
But the leg, remorseless, kept up the chase
Ri too ral, &c.
Then he call'd to some men with all his might;
"Oh, stop this leg or I'm murdered quite,"
But though they heard him aid invite,
In less than a minute he was out of sight.
Ri too ral, &c.
