Then in spite of your sophistry, honest Will Wood
Is a man of this world, all true flesh and blood;
So you are but in jest, and you will not, I hope,
Unman the poor knave for the sake of a trope. 
’Tis a metaphor known to every plain thinker,
Just as when we say, the devil’s a tinker,
Which cannot, in literal sense be made good,
Unless by the devil we mean Mr. Wood. 
  But some will object that the devil oft spoke,
In heathenish times, from the trunk of an oak;
And since we must grant there never were known
More heathenish times, than those of our own;
Perhaps you will say, ’tis the devil that puts
The words in Wood’s mouth, or speaks from his guts: 
And then your old arguments still will return;
Howe’er, let us try him, and see how he’ll burn: 
You’ll pardon me, sir, your cunning I smoke,
But Wood, I assure you, is no heart of oak;
And, instead of the devil, this son of perdition
Hath join’d with himself two hags in commission. 
  I ne’er could endure my talent to smother: 
I told you one tale, and I’ll tell you another. 
A joiner to fasten a saint in a niche,
Bored a large auger-hole in the image’s breech;
But, finding the statue to make no complaint,
He would ne’er be convinced it was a true saint. 
When the true Wood arrives, as he soon will, no doubt,
(For that’s but a sham Wood they carry about;[2])
What stuff he is made of you quickly may find
If you make the same trial and bore him behind. 
I’ll hold you a groat, when you wimble his bum,
He’ll bellow as loud as the de’il in a drum. 
From me, I declare you shall have no denial;
And there can be no harm in making a trial: 
And when to the joy of your hearts he has roar’d,
You may show him about for a new groaning board. 
  Now ask me a question.  How came it to pass
Wood got so much copper?  He got it by brass;
This brass was a dragon, (observe what I tell ye,)
This dragon had gotten two sows in his belly;
I know you will say this is all heathen Greek. 
I own it, and therefore I leave you to seek. 
  I often have seen two plays very good,
Call’d Love in a Tub, and Love in a Wood;
These comedies twain friend Wood will contrive
On the scene of this land very soon to revive. 
First, Love in a Tub:  Squire Wood has in store
Strong tubs for his raps, two thousand and more;
These raps he will honestly dig out with shovels,
And sell them for gold, or he can’t show his love else. 
Wood swears he will do it for Ireland’s good,
Then can you deny it is Love in a Wood? 
However, if critics find fault with the phrase,
I hope you will own it is Love in a Maze: 
For when to express a friend’s love you are willing,
We never say more than your love is a million;
But with honest Wood’s love there is no contending,
’Tis fifty round millions of love and a mending. 
Then in his first love why should he be crost?