Well Madam, wel, the Fart you put upon me
Hath in this Kingdome almost quite undone me.
Many a boystrous storm, & bitter gust
Have I endur'd, by Sea, and more I must:
But of all storms by Land, to me 'tis true,
This is the foulest blast that ever blew.
Not that it can so much impaire my credit,
For that I dare pronounce, 'twas I, that did it.
For when I thought to please you with a song,
'Twas but a straine too low that did me wrong;
But winged Fame will yet divulge it so,
That I shall heare of't wheresoe're I goe.
To see my friends, I now no longer dare,
Because my Fart will be before me there.
Nay more, which is to me my hardest doom,
I long to see you most, but dare not come;
For if by chance or hap, we meet together,
You taunt me with, what winde, Sir, blew you hither?
If I deny to tell, you will not fayle,
I thought your voice, Sir, would have drown'd your Taile;
Thus am I hamper'd wheresoe're you meet me,
And thus, instead of better termes you greet me.
I never held it such a heinous crime,
A Fart was lucky held, in former time;
A Foxe of old, being destitute of food,
Farted, and said, this news must needs be good,
I shall have food, I know, without delay,
Mine Arse doth sing so merrily to day;
And so they say he had. But yet you see
The Foxes blessing proves a curse to me.
How much I wronged am, the case is cleare,
As I shall plainly make it to appear.
As thus, of all men let me be forsaken,
If of a Fart can any hold be taken:
For 'tis a Blast, and we Recorded finde,
King Aeolus alone commands the winde.
Why should I then usurp, and undertake
The Subject of a Royall Prince to make
My Prisoner? No, but as my duty bindes,
Leave that command unto the King of windes.
So, when I found him struggling to depart,
I freely gave him leave with all my heart.
Then judge you, gentle Ladyes, of my wrong,
Am I not well requited for my Song?
All the revenge that I require is this,
That you may Fart as oft as e're you pisse;
So may you chance, the next time that we meet,
To vie the Ruffe, and I dare not to see't.
In the meane time, on knees devoutly bended,
My Tongue craves pardon, if my Taile offended.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Mine Arse Doth Sing So Merrily To Day
"Upon a Fart unluckily let," in Musarum deliciae: or, The Muses recreation. Conteining Severall Pieces of Poetique Wit. The second Edition. By Sr J.M. and Ja: S. (London: Printed by J.G. for Henry Herringman, 1656), pp. 37-39: