Howe'er, let us try him, and see how he'll burn: You'll pardon me, sir, your cunning I smoke, But Wood, I assure you, is no heart of oak; And, instead of the devil, this son of perdition Hath join'd with himself two hags in commission. I ne'er could endure my talent to smother: I told you one tale, and I'll tell you another. A joiner to fasten a saint in a niche, Bored a large auger-hole in the image's breech; But, finding the statue to make no complaint, He would ne'er be convinced it was a true saint. When the true Wood arrives, as he soon will, no doubt, (For that's but a sham Wood they carry about;[2]) What stuff he is made of you quickly may find If you make the same trial and bore him behind. I'll hold you a groat, when you wimble his bum, He'll bellow as loud as the de'il in a drum. From me, I declare you shall have no denial; And there can be no harm in making a trial: And when to the joy of your hearts he has roar'd, You may show him about for a new groaning board. Now ask me a question. How came it to pass Wood got so much copper? He got it by brass; This brass was a dragon, (observe what I tell ye,) This dragon had gotten two sows in his belly; I know you will say this is all heathen Greek. I own it, and therefore I leave you to seek. I often have seen two plays very good, Call'd Love in a Tub, and Love in a Wood; These comedies twain friend Wood will contrive On the scene of this land very soon to revive. First, Love in a Tub: Squire Wood has in store Strong tubs for his raps, two thousand and more; These raps he will honestly dig out with shovels, And sell them for gold, or he can't show his love else. Wood swears he will do it for Ireland's good, Then can you deny it is Love in a Wood? However, if critics find fault with the phrase, I hope you will own it is Love in a Maze: For when to express a friend's love you are willing, We never say more than your love is a million; But with honest Wood's love there is no contending, 'Tis fifty round millions of love and a mending. Then in his first love why should he be crost? I hope he will find that no love is lost. Hear one story more, and then I will stop. I dreamt Wood was told he should die by a drop: So methought he resolved no liquor to taste, For fear the first drop might as well be his last. But dreams are like oracles; 'tis hard to explain 'em; For it proved that he died of a drop at Kilmainham.[3] I waked with delight; and not without hope, Very soon to see Wood drop down from a rope. How he, and how we at each other should grin! 'Tis kindness to hold a friend up by the chin. But soft! says the herald, I cannot agree; For metal on metal is false heraldry. Why that may be true; yet Wood upon Wood, I'll maintain with my life, is heraldry good. [Footnote 1: Forge his own bad halfpence.--_Scott_.] [Footnote 2: He was burnt in effigy.--_Scott_.] [Footnote 3: The place of execution near Dublin.--_Scott_.]