The Senate, College, Hall, and Bar,
Famous for flowr's of rhetoric are;
Yet their persuasive powers are small;
A child of three surpasses all.

The Minister of State, with ease
Can draw your money when he please;
Although the cash you hold is plenty,
Can quickly leave your pocket empty.
His oily tongue has oft beguil'd;
Yet he must fall beneath the child.

Suet can draw a smile; and Farren
A coronet to put her hair in:
The powers of Erskine seldom fail
To make his opponent turn pale.
All who in rhetoric strain the throat,
Fade at the infant petticoat.

Near Derby liv'd a Lady Gray;
At Risley, by the turnpike way;
Joining herself to harmony,
With hospitality made three.
She fed the bird; she stroak'd the cat;
Nay, Towser's tail wagg'd with the pat;
Offended none that e'er you knew,
Whether they walk'd on four or two;
Kept wine that rais'd, and drugs that purg'd,
For neighbours when their sickness urg'd.
Whene'er, and what can this transcend,
She saw a soul, she saw a friend!
A life like hers was sure to charm;
Often did good, but never harm.

The bunch of keys, a woman's pride,
Was never known to grace her side.
Her doors unlock'd; she ne'er was cheated;
A confidence design defeated.
Her face, in converse with a clown,
Was never known to wear a frown.

As by the high-way stood the hall,
'Twas ready for the stranger's call.
A form and table were in view;
A horn of beer, and luncheon too;
So that the wand'rer, by delay,
Was fairly aided in his way.

The Steward watch'd--'twas Thomas White,
The tenants, and the lady's right;
Cautious to hold, and never fail,
Between the two an even scale.

His little son began to walk,
And lisp'd as if he meant to talk.
The prattler in the hall at play
Was notic'd by the Lady Gray.
For youth and innocence engage;
They hold a power that's lost in age.

She dandled Tommy on the knee;
They both were equal, both were free;
Held conversation tete à tete;
The cake and sugar-plumbs were sweet.
These visits often were repeated;
But not a visit was regretted.

'Tommy shall draw, come dress him fine,
My Lady, for his Valentine;
And you'll observe, when up you're led
By Molly to my Lady's bed,
To make a bow, my dear, that's clever,
And then this pretty paper give her.
If she should ask, without a frown,
What she shall give? reply, a crown!
'Twill put, if Madam should disburse,
Five shillings in thy little purse.'

Now Tom and Valentine were led
Where half was offer'd at her bed.
As innocence came without a guile,
Both were accepted with a smile.

'What shall I give thee?' Madam cries--
'A town'--the lisping child replies.
'I will, thy Valentine to crown,
Grant thy request, and give a town.
The town of Sandiacre's mine;
But Sandiacre shall be thine.'

Time saw, ere two years could expire,
The Lady die--the child a 'Squire;
And, after forty more, observ'd,
The office of High Sheriff serv'd .
His family enjoys it yet.
Who easier could a village get?

Thus if you powerful rhetoric seek,
Apply where folks can scarcely speak;
The most persuasive eloquence
Is found where there's the least pretence.