OYSTERS

Charming oysters I cry:

My masters, come buy,

So plump and so fresh,

So sweet is their flesh,

No Colchester oyster

Is sweeter and moister:

Your stomach they settle,

And rouse up your mettle:

They'll make you a dad

Of a lass or a lad;

And madam your wife

They'll please to the life;

Be she barren, be she old,

Be she slut, or be she scold,

Eat my oysters, and lie near her,

She'll be fruitful, never fear her.

The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 1 · 第 202 / 243 题