Oh! Mr Best Youre Very Bad

Oh!

Mr.

Best, you're very

And all the world shall know it;

Your base behaviour shall be

By me, a tunefull Poet.— You used to go to

Each summer as it came,

And why I pray should you

To go this year the same?— The way's as plain, the road's as smooth,

The Posting not increased;

You're scarcely stouter than you were,

Not younger Sir at least.— If e'er the waters were of

Why now their use forego?

You may not live another year,

All's mortal here below.— It is your duty Mr

To give your health repair.

Vain else your Richard's pills will be,

And vain your Consort's care.

But yet a nobler Duty

You now towards the North.

Arise ennobled—as

Of Martha Lloyd stand forth.

She wants your aid—she honours

With a distinguished call.

Stand forth to be the friend of

Who is the friend of all.— Take her, and wonder at your luck,

In having such a Trust.

Her converse sensible and

Will banish heat and dust.— So short she'll make the journey

You'll bid the Chaise stand still.

T'will be like driving at full

From Newb'ry to Speen hill.— Convey her safe to Morton's

And I'll forget the past,

And write some verses in your

As finely and as fast.

But if you still refuse to goI'll never let your rest,

Buy haunt you with reproachful

Oh! wicked Mr.

Best!—