A Poem On High Church
By Jonathan Swift
High Church is undone,
As sure as a gun,
For old Peter Patch is departed;
And Eyres and Delaune,
And the rest of that spawn,
Are tacking about broken-hearted.
For strong Gill of Sarum,
That decoctum amarum,
Has prescribed a dose of cant-fail;
Which will make them resign
Their flasks of French wine,
And spice up their Nottingham ale.
It purges the spleen
Of dislike to the queen,
And has one effect that is odder;
When easement they use,
They always will chuse
The Conformity Bill for bumfodder.