Bacchus In The Pillory.

Twirl him! twirl him! blind and dumb      Deaf and dumb,     Twirl the cane so troublesome!     Sprigs of fashion by the dozen     Thou dost bring to book, good cousin.     Cousin, thou art not in clover;     Many a head that's filled with smoke     Thou hast twirled and well-nigh broke,     Many a clever one perplexed,     Many a stomach sorely vexed,     Turning it completely over;     Many a hat put on awry,     Many a lamb chased cruelly,     Made streets, houses, edges, trees,     Dance around us fools with ease.     Therefore thou are not in clover,     Therefore thou, like other folk,     Hast thy head filled full of smoke,     Therefore thou, too, art perplexed,     And thy stomach's sorely vexed,     For 'tis turned completely over;     Therefore thou art not in clover.     Twirl him! twirl him! blind and dumb      Deaf and dumb,     Twirl the carle so troublesome!     Seest thou how our tongues and wits     Thou hast shivered into bits     Seest thou this, licentious wight?     How we're fastened to a string,     Whirled around in giddy ring,     Making all like night appear,     Filling with strange sounds our ear?     Learn it in the stocks aright!     When our ears wild noises shook,     On the sky we cast no look,     Neither stock nor stone reviewed,     But were punished as we stood.     Seest thou now, licentious wight?     That, to us, yon flaring sun     Is the Heidelbergers' tun;     Castles, mountains, trees, and towers,     Seem like chopin-cups of ours.     Learn'st thou now, licentious wight?     Learn it in the stocks aright!     Twirl him! twirl him! blind and dumb,      Deaf and dumb,     Twirl the carle so troublesome!     Kinsman, once so full of glee,     Kinsman, where's thy drollery,     Where thy tricks, thou cunning one?     All thy tricks are spent and past,     To the devil gone at last     Like a silly fop thou'lt prate,     Like a washerwoman rate.     Thou art but a simpleton.     Now thou mayest more shame to thee     Run away, because of me;     Cupid, that young rogue, may glory     Learning wisdom from thy story;     Haste, thou sluggard, hence to flee     As from glass is cut our wit,     So, like lightning, 'twill be split;     If thou won't be chased away,     Let each folly also stay     Seest my meaning? Think of me!     Idle one, away with thee!