LAST Night a Dream came into my Head,
Thou wert a fine white Loaf of Bread ;
Then if May Butter I cou'd be,
How I wou'd spread,
Oh ! how I wou'd spread my self on thee:
This Morning too my Thoughts ran hard,
That you were made a cool Tankard ;
Then cou'd I but a Lemon be,
How I wou'd squeese,
Oh ! how I wou'd squeese my Juice in thee.
Lately when Fancy too did roam,
Thou wert my dear, a Honey-comb ;
And had I been a pretty Bee,
How I wou'd suck,
Oh ! how I wou'd creep, creep into thee :
A Vision too I had of old,
That thou a Mortar wert of Gold ;
Then cou'd I but the Pestle be,
How I wou'd pound,
Oh ! how I wou'd pound my Spice in thee.
Once too my Dream did Humour take,
Thou wert a bowl of Hefford's Rack ;
Z----- cou'd I then the Ladle be,
How wou'd I pour,
Oh ! how wou'd I pour out Joys from thee.
Another time by Charm divine,
I dreamt thou wert an Orchard fine ;
Then cou'd I but thy Farmer be,
How I wou'd plant,
Oh ! how I wou'd plant my Fruit in thee.
Soon after Whims came in my Pate,
Thou wert a Pot of Chocolate ;
And cou'd I but the Rowler be,
How wou'd I rub,
Oh ! how wou'd I twirl, and froth up thee :
But since all Dreams are vain my Dear,
Let now some solid Joy appear ;
My Soul still thine is prov'd to be, let body now,
Let Body now with Soul agree.