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(126) Page 114 - Slaves to London, I'll deceive you
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S Laves to London I'll deceive you,
For the Country now I leave you :
Who can bear, and not be Mad,
Wine so dear, and yet so bad :
Such a Noise and Air so smoaky,
That to stun, this to choak ye ;
Men so selfish, false and rude,
Nymphs so young and yet so lew'd.
Quiet harmless Country Pleasure,
Shall at home engross my Leisure ;
Farewel London, I'll repair,
To my Native Country Air :
I leave all thy Pleasures behind me,
But at home my Wife will find me ;
Oh the Gods ! 'tis ten times worse,
Lo?idon is a milder Curse.
The

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