In th' isle of Britain, long since famous grown
For breeding the best *** in Christendom,
There reigns, and oh! long may he reign and thrive,
The easiest King and best-bred man alive.
Him no ambition moves to get renown [5]
Like the French fool, that wanders up and down
Starving his people, hazarding his crown.
Peace is his aim, his gentleness is such,
And love he loves, for he loves *** much.
Nor are his high desires above his strength: [10]
His scepter and his *** are of a length;
And she may sway the one who plays with th' other,
And make him little wiser than his brother.
Poor Prince! thy ***, like thy buffoons at Court,
Will govern thee because it makes thee sport. [15]
'Tis sure the sauciest *** that e'er did swive,
The proudest, peremptoriest *** alive.
Though safety, law, religion, life lay on 't,
'Twould break through all to make its way to ***.
Restless he rolls about from *** to ***, [20]
A merry monarch, scandalous and poor.
To Carwell, the most dear of all his dears,
The best relief of his declining years,
Oft he bewails his fortune, and her fate:
To love so well, and be beloved so late. [25]
For though in her he settles well his tarse,
Yet his dull, graceless bollocks hang an arse.
This you'd believe, had I but time to tell ye
The pains it costs to poor, laborious Nelly,
Whilst she employs hands, fingers, mouth, and thighs, [30]
Ere she can raise the member she enjoys.
All monarchs I hate, and the thrones they sit on,
From the hector of France to the cully of Britain.