By Beauty's caresses, like Cupid, half-spoil'd,
Thus Music's and Poesy's favourite child
Exclaim'd, - "'Tis, by Heaven! a terrible thing
Before a he-party to sit and to sing!"
"By my shoul! Master Moore, you there may be right,"
Said a son of green Erin; "tho' dear to my sight
Are all the sweet cratures, call'd women, I swear,
Yet I think we can feel just as well as the fair:
Tho' you'd bribe us with songs, blood and 'ounds! let me say,
I'd not be a woman for one in your way."
Impromptu Lines, Upon Anacreon Moore's Saying That He Disliked Singing To Men
John Carr (sir)
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Poem topics: beauty, child, feel, green, heaven, music, son, woman, women, dear, sweet, terrible, master, swear, favourite, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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