When all the follies here provoke
Your old satiric lash,
When the anatomy I draw
Enrages Dr. Nash,
Yet there is one within your house
Who here the sense may see
A little — ere she grows too old,
And far too wise for me.
Your old satiric lash,
When the anatomy I draw
Enrages Dr. Nash,
Yet there is one within your house
Who here the sense may see
A little — ere she grows too old,
And far too wise for me.
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