The Ink Bottle, Part One!

Here is the next installment of poetry generally attributed to Thomas, the sixth Earl of Harrington (circa 1730).  This particular poem will be continued with the second and final part tomorrow.  Enjoy!

The Ink Bottle

A scrivener once, a driveling sot,
A young and handsome wife had got,
Who never could resist temptation,
But felt a constant titilation.

Robin was old, and often sick,
And scarcely kissed her once a week;
Such usage did but ill agree
With one so young, so hot as she,
Who found that she had love in store,
For him and twenty lovers more;
And being in her youthful prime,
Resolved no more to lose her time;
But while her husband wrote indentures,
To go in search of  live adventures.

A woman, if she’s young and fair,
Of lovers never can despair:
That this is an undoubted truth,
Ask Robin’s wife, the handsome Ruth,
Who now of stallions has a score,
And every week is adding more,
With whom she traffics everyday,
And sends them satisfied away;
Is ever kissing, toying, shoving,
And knows no end of lust or loving.
Though she can weary all her lovers,
No weariness she ever discovers,
But in the pastime takes delight,
And change restores her appetite.
Among her friends are men of figure,
She chooses others for their vigor;
If they perform what she desires,
She seldom of their birth inquires,
And wisely hating empty show,
Prefers the footman to the beau.

One day she saw a handsome black,
With brawny legs and sturdy back,
Well shapes, broad shouldered, young and tall,
As he stood pissing at the wall,
His instrument of generation,
Raised up at Ruth an inclination
To try if white or black was best,
And meant to put it to the test.
She straight for Oroonoko sent,
The jolly footman was content;
She felt his skin and then began
To strip the sooty African;
That naked trial were the best
She knew, and so herself undressed.

Never was seen so odd  a sight,
For Ruth was like a lily white,
And he as any raven black:
To me they seemed (for I and Nanny
Looked in a closet through a cranny,
Distinctly saw each thing that passed),
While her white limbs were round him cast,
Like to a cane I once did buy,
Of ebony hooped with ivory.

To be continued with Part 2 tomorrow . . . 

Note: printed on the page following the title page was the following: “from a collection of poems that have been generally ascribed to Thomas, sixth Earl of Harrington. He was the son of Charles, the fifth Earl, and Margaret Lesslie, Countess of Rothes; and fought on the Royal side at the battle of Shirreffmuir, along with his brother John Lesslie, Earl of Rothes, and his own son, Lord Binning. These poems, according to Pinkerton, were printed about 1730, and have been reprinted in 1753, 1765, 1767, and 1777. He was also the author of a treatise on forest trees, which has gone through several editions. He died in 1735.” However, if these dates are correct (and I am by no means an expert historian in such matters), these poems could only have been written by either the first or second Earl of Harrington (William Stanhope and W.S. Jr.).

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