| Citation |
MS-B.772.083
17 Dec 1772:1702 (2/96)
A Dialogue between Cuffee and his Master, on Saturday
evening last.
Master. Well Cuffee! What's the world about?
Your master's sick--no stirring out:
Confin'd a week, and not a friend
Vouchsafes a single hour to spend.
The gout indeed's no social creature,
Stand off you whelp--behold those feet here.
Cuffee: I'm sorry master! --People say
De ship be going all away;
De Newport folks, I'm berry sorry,
Are what d'ye call them--no! no Tory,
Dey burn a Cooner, flog de men,
And den go hide demself agen.
. . . [32 more lines]
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