Classic Poem

Imprimis, there's a table blotted,
A tattered hanging all bespotted.
A bed of flocks as I may rank it,
Reduced to rug and half a blanket.
A tinder-box without a flint,
An oaken desk with nothing in't,
A pair of tongs bought from a broker,
A fender and a rusty poker,
A penny pot and basin — this
Designed for water, that for piss —
A broken-winded pair of bellows,
Two knives and forks, but neither fellows;
Item, a surplice, not unmeeting
Either for table cloth or sheeting;
There is likewise a pair of breeches,
But patched and fallen in the stitches,
Hung up in study very little,
Plastered with cobweb and spittle.
An airy prospect all so pleasing,
From my light window without glazing.
A trencher and a college bottle,
Piled up on Locke and Aristotle.
A prayer-book which he seldom handles,
A save-all and two-farthing candles.
A smutty ballad, musty libel,
A Burgursdicius and a Bible.
The C — Seasons and the Senses
By Overton, to save expenses.
Item (if I'm not much mistaken),
A mouse-trap with a bit of bacon.
A candlestick without a snuffer,
Whereby his fingers often suffer.
Two odd old shoes I should not skip here;
Each strapless serves instead of slipper.
And chairs a couple, I forgot 'em,
But each of them without a bottom.
Thus I in rhyme have comprehended
His goods, and so my schedule's ended.