On the Monument at London

My masters and friends, and good people draw near, For here's a new sight which you must not escape, A stately young fabric that cost very dear, Renown'd for streight body and Barbary shape; A Pyramid much higher Than steeple or spire, By which you may guess there has been a sire. Ah, London, thou 'adst better have built new burdellos, T' encourage she-traders and lusty young fellows. No sooner the City had lost their old houses, But they set-up this Monument wonderful tall; Though when Christians were burnt, as Fox plainly shews us, There was nothing set-up but his book in the hall. And yet these men can't In their conscience but grant, That a House is unworthy compar'd to a Saint. Ah, London, &c. The children of men, in erecting old Babel, To be saved from Water did only desire: So the City presumes that this young one is able, When occasion shall serve, to secure them from Fire. Blowing-up when all 's done Preserves best the Town, But this Hieroglyphick will soon be blown-down. Ah, London, &c. Some say, it resembles a glass fit for mum, And think themselves witty by giving nick-names: An extinguisher too it is fancied by some, As set up on purpose to put out the flames. But, whatever they shall This workmanship call, Had it never been thought on, 't had been a Save-all. Ah, London, &c.