‘ Tis so old and so ugly, and yet so convenient,
You're sometimes in pleasure, though often in pain i n't;
‘ Tis so large, you may lodge a few friends with ease i n't,
You may turn and stretch at your length if you please i n't;
‘ Tis so little, the family live in a press i n't,
And poor Lady Bettyhas scarce room to dress i n't;
‘ Tis so cold in the winter, you can n't bear to lie i n't,
And so hot in the summer, you're ready to fry i n't;
‘ Tis so brittle,‘ twould scarce bear the weight of a tun,
Yet so staunch, that it keeps out a great deal of sun;
‘ Tis so crazy, the weather with ease beats quite through it,
And you're forced every year in some part to renew it;
‘ Tis so ugly, so useful, so big, and so little,
‘ Tis so staunch and so crazy, so strong and so brittle,
‘ Tis at one time so hot, and another so cold,
It is part of the new, and part of the old;
It is just half a blessing, and just half a curse —
Wish then, dear George, it were better or worse.