_The Serpent and the Fox_; _or an Interview between Old Nick and Old John_.
There’s a Fox, who resideth hard by, The most perfect, and holy, and sly. That e’er turn’d a coat, or could pilfer or lye.
As this Reverend Reynard one day, Sat thinking what game next to play; Old Nick came a seas’nable visit to pay.
“O your servant, my friend,” quoth the priest; “Tho’ you carry the mark of the beast, I never shook paws with a welcomer guest.”
“Many thanks, holy man,” cry’d the fiend, “’Twas because you’re my very good friend, That I dropt in with you a few moments to spend.”
Your kindness requited shall be; There’s the Calvinist-Methodists, see, Who’re eternally troublous to you and to me.
Now I’ll stir up the hounds of the _whore_ That’s called _scarlet_, to worry them sore; And then roast ’em in Smithfield, like BONNER of yore.
O a meal of the Calvinist brood Will do my old stomach more good, Than a sheep to a wolf that is starving for food.
When America’s conquer’d, you know (’Til then we must leave them to crow), I’ll work up our rulers to strike an home blow.
An excellent plan, could you do it; But if all the internals too knew it, They’d be puzzled, like me, to tell how you’ll go through it.
When they speak against vice in the great; I’ll cry out that they aim’d at the _State_; And the Ministry, King, and the Parliament hate.
Thus I’ll still act the part of a lyar; Persecution’s blest spirit inspire; And then “_Calmly Address_” ’em with faggot and fire.
Ay, that’s the right way, I know well: But how _lyes_ with _perfection_ can dwell, Is a riddle, dear John, that would puzzle all hell.
Pish, you talk like a doating old elf: Can’t you see now it brings in the pelf? And all things are lawful that serve a man’s self.
As serpents we ought to be wise: Is not self-preservation a prize? For this did not _Abram_ the righteous tell lyes?
I perceive you are subtle, tho’ small: You have reason, and scripture, and all; So stilted, you never can _finally fall_.
From the drift of your latter reflection, I fear you maintain some connection With the crocodile crew that believe in Election.
By my troth, I abhor the whole troop; With those heroes I never could cope: I should chuckle to see them all swing in a rope.