Letter to a Friend

Now let me plainly tell you That every POLLY, NANCY, NELLY, HANNAH, BETSY, EUNICE, BRIDGET, But put a student's mind in fidgets. When studying Latin, french or so, The girls are e'er mal-apropos. Stop, let me scratch my caput—say, My dear friend, parlez vous Francois, Mais vous ne pouvez pas comprendre, More than what Jove says in his thunder, Or Cupid with his lips of 'lasses, Nr noisy Neptune tes thalasses. Sed dicere jam, my friend, Latine, Which language you as well as I know, Nulla littera a te Eleck upon its way to me— Et nunquam will, I hope certissime.