The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 17/Epitaph of By-words
EPITAPH OF BY-WORDS.
HERE lies a round woman, who thought mighty odd
Ev'ry word she e'er heard in this church about God.
To convince her of God the good dean did endeavour;
But still in her heart she held Nature more clever.
Tho' he talk'd much of virtue, her head always run
Upon something or other she found better fun:
For the dame, by her skill in affairs astronomical,
Imagin'd, to live in the clouds was but comical.
In this world she despis'd ev'ry soul she met here;
And now she's in t'other, she thinks it but queer.