The Chatterbox

I needs must beg you, Caroline, To cease your Chatter whilst I dine, It deafens every Ear. John Footman cannot hear my Words, And I have asked him twice for Curds And still he cannot hear.

When Uncle Wilmot, from Malay, Comes here, to make his usual Stay, He surely will suppose That he is back in savage Lands, Where Heathens roam in impious Bands And feast upon their Foes.

We all should learn to curb our Speech, Last Week we heard the Rector preach Upon this Rule; ’tis true If he your giddy Talk could hear His Sermons would be more severe, And he would preach on You.