On Mister Surgeon Thelwall
The Tomahawk (October 27, 1795)
Poor Mister Thelwall has exhausted
All his little stock of wit,
The fellow merits—to be hoisted;
So high he soars—to pick a bit.
He dealt with resurrection-men,
To make the Quick rise now he's at;
But sure we cannot wonder, when
The fellow is a Democrat!
If he would eat in peace his bread,
Why let him follow ancient thriving;
Go pick the BONES then of the dead
And not the POCKETS of the living!