OLD AGNES. (Sequel to Toby Philpot.)

My true honest fellows who smoke with such glee, To beg your attention for once I make free, And sing of our pipes, while thus merry and snug, We soften our cares as we lighten our jug; This jug which from Toby its origin boasts, Old Toby, whose mem'ry enlivens the toast.

Toby's fame like his size, spread so great by his ale, That for Agnes no room could be found in the tale, Honest Agnes, the social support of his life, Both for quaffing and size was well pair'd as his wife; Therefore singing her praise, we with joy will regale, Whilst our pipes and our jug give a zest to our ale.

The potter, who shrewdly found Toby's remains, Thought to visit again there might answer his pains, Where, in brief, he found Agnes, whose death, as her life, Made her qualify'd duly to lie as his wife: Her fair fame all the village incessantly quote, Whose Vicar the following epitaph wrote.

"Agnes Philpot, the wife of old Toby, renown'd, "Who liv'd whilst on earth, now lies dead in this ground, "The care of her grieving for Toby to bilk, "She soften'd her sorrows with brandy and milk, "Swoln with silky, she thriv'd 'till her skin gave a crack "When death popping in laid her here on her back."

At these lines our good potter a happy thought started, That Toby and Agnes should never be parted; So he took of her clay which was white as her milk, And temper'd with brandy 'till softer than silk, Then forming these pipes, he advis'd sly and snug, That we kiss her fair clay, and shake hands with his jug.