A Burlesque Translation of Homer. Francis Grose

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      Has got more brains by half than mine:

      If Jove, to help us in our streights,

      Would lend us half a score such pates,

      Split me, we should have brains enough

      To strip these Trojans into buff,

      And all the men and women leave

      As nak'd as Adam first knew Eve.

      But Jove, or by design or chance;

      Has led us all a pretty dance:

      'Tis he that makes us thus dispute

      And squabble till we all fall out.

      As for Achilles, I abus'd him,

      Kidnap'd his girl, and vilely us'd him;

      And, like two English tars, we swore

      And scolded for a little whore;

      But hope (unless I am beguil'd)

      Ere long we shall be reconcil'd;

      And then, my boys, you'll see how soon

      This whore's nest, Troy, will tumble down.

      But now 'tis time for every sinner

      To look out sharp to find a dinner;

      And then we'll fight, while fighting's good,

      And drench our soleless shoes in blood.

      Fit then your potlids on your wrists,

      And grasp your broomsticks in your fists;

      Your mettled horses bring all out,

      Both cut and longtail, for this bout.

      Like hungry wolves and bears we'll fight,

      And kick and cuff from morn to night:

      Who dares his coward head to flinch

      The thousandth part of half an inch

      Or should a moment's time let slip,

      By skulking in his crazy ship,

      His scurvy hide, for shunning blows,

      Shall be devour'd by carrion crows.

      Soon as he spoke, both front and rear

      Began to look confounded queer.

      But late they thought to kiss their wives,

      And lead at home good quiet lives;

      Instead of that, they find they must

      Have t'other bout at cut and thrust:

      So forc'd against their wills to stay,

      The grumbling whore's-birds sneak'd away.

      Now fires by scores were quickly made,

      And cows by dozens knock'd o' th' head.

      The victuals for theirselves they took,

      But wisely fed their gods with smoke:

      For men it would be choking stuff,

      But for the gods did well enough.

      And whilst the garbage broils, they pray

      T'escape a broken pate that day.

      But to fill all their bellies full,

      The priest had drest a fine young bull;

      And then invited ev'ry chief

      To come and eat this rare bull beef;

      Ask'd Nestor first, because his beard

      Was longest by a full half-yard;

      Idomen did the next succeed,

      And then that varlet Diomed:

      Ajax the less, and Ajax great,

      With sly Ulysses took their seat;

      Lest they should think the cuckold slighted,

      He came to dinner uninvited.

      Now each man draws his pudding-knife,

      And eats as though he ate for life.

      But first, Atrides said a grace,

      Holding his hat before his face;

      Then added, in a canting tone,

      A pray'r he'd better left alone.