J 12 LIFE IN IRELAND 



A DROPPED LETTER FOUND 



V— SC— T S— D TH TO THE R D— R OF L— D— N 



God prosper long our noble K — g, 



Our lives and safeties all ; 

 How many have you made to swing 



Since last I left W— eh— 11 ? 



Here I am free from all ' reports ' ; 



Of death I never think ; 

 The practice of the Irish Courts 



Is — how to eat and drink. 



A halter never here is nam'd ; 



The thing is past a joke ; 

 And every family 's ashamed 



Of necks that hemp hath broke. 



' To drive the dears with hounds and horn ' 

 Great G — ge here bent his way ; 



And babes will bless him yet unborn, 

 That forth they 're brought to da5\ 



With clyster-pipe I homage do, 



Administering at his back, 

 And if I can't of practice crow, 



I still cry ' Quack ! quack ! quack ! ' 



Here all are Quacks from first to last, 



The Peer and Peeress gay ; 

 The spalpeens join in puffing fast 



All empirics in their way. 



The barber puffs our Monarch's wig, 



The cabinet-makers glue 

 The whiskers on — and rung the rig — 



All Quacks, like I and you. 



