_In Nature's workshop, on a day,
Her journeymen inclin'd to play,
Half drunk 'twixt cup and can,
Took up a clod, which she with care
Was modelling a huge sea bear,
And swore they'd make't a man._
_They tried, but, handling ill their tools,
Formed, like a pack of bungling fools,
A thing so gross and odd;
That, when it roll'd about the dish,
They knew not if 'twere flesh or fish,
A man or Hodmandod._
_Yet, to compleat their piece of fun,
They christen'd it Arch Hamilton;
"But what can this thing do?"
Kick it down stairs; the devil's in't
If it won't do to write and print
The Critical Review._