To the Printer of the Pennsylvania Gazette.
Your Adversary has always been shy of us his
Country-Folks, and affected to be thought of some other Nation; but
the Constraint with which he appears to write, in shoes, and
the great Brogue on his Pen at other Times, demonstrates him
indisputably to be a Teague. I think
Nonsense in Prose is not quite so agreeable as in Verse, and
therefore, in respect to my Countryman, notwithstanding his want of
national Affection, I have turn’d his last Performance into Metre:
The Reader, I hope, will excuse the want of Smoothness in my
Verses, the Pegasus I ride being a hobbling Jade and a Trotter. I
am your Servant,
Arra Joy! My montly Macasheen shall contain Sheets
four,
Or an Equivalent, which is something more;
So dat twelve Times four shall make fifty two,
Which is twice as much as fifty two Newsh-Papers do:
Prishe shingle One Shilling: But shubscribe for a
Year,
You shall have it sheaper, at de shame Prishe, Honey dear:
And if you will but shubscribe to take it de Year out,
You may leave off when you pleashe, before, no doubt.
’Tis true, my Book is dear; but de Reashon is plain,
The best Parts of it ish de Work of my own Brain:
How can odher Men’s Writings be wort so much!
Arra! if you tink so, you’re no vhery good Shudge.
De Newsh which I left out, becaush it was old,
And had been in odher Papers so often told,
I shall put into my nexsht (do ’tis shince told onesh more)
Becaush ’twill be newer dan it wash before.
For de dear Buyer’s Shake, and de Land’s Reputaish’
No Shweepings, but dose of my own Shcull shall have plaish;
And dose, you must tink, will be vhery fine:
For do dis Advertisement my Printer does Shign,
To tell you de Trute, de Shense is all mine.