Classic Poem

A Lyar, does the Psalmist say,
Shall not stay in my sight?
Will any then be bold, and cry,
King David was not right?

Oh! were the Monarch now on Earth,
I pray where must he dwell?
From whence must he his Servants fetch,
If they no Lye must tell?

Methinks his Lordship to his Man,
Thus frequently will cry —
" Mind, John, I'm not at home To-day;
So teaches him to Lye.

And John a ready Scholar, quick;
Who learns so fast, you'll find,
That he will tell a Lye for self,
When e'er he has a Mind.

I wonder that your Lordships
Your Servants e'er believe;
When you your selves have taught them thus
Each other to deceive.

Miss P — — says that she hates a Lye,
Yet will the Servant tell,
" Say that I'm not at home, I pray, "
And likes the Maxim well.

But yet she says, she's not so mean
As e'er to tell a Lye;
But sure she loves and makes one too
Oh, fie! Miss P — — fie, fie!

Ann's religious, Sylva says,
Besides she is not young;
And yet I know, a Lye will come
With Pleasure from her Tongue.

Thus Sylva, Ann condemns with scorn
And often does her blame;
Because that she will tell a Lye, —
Yet Sylva does the same.

But Sylva says, that she is young,
So thinks excus'd to be;
Her right Hand from her left she knows,
She's Blind, and cannot see.

But for Ann's Lyes, then, Sylva, know,
You no Account shall give;
But certainly to God you must,
How you on Earth do live.

Oh! do not think that I am harsh,
Because these Truths I tell;
All Lyars that do not repent,
Shall burned be in Hell.

The Devil is their Father too,
Thus does the Saviour say;
Oh! fly to him, he is the truth,
To Heav'n he is the Way.