Old Oswold’s town in days of old
Was famed for neatness soever told
Its reputation’s gone I fear
Dirty now as dead Ellesmere.
The road called new which leads to town
Has mud enough a child to drown
To call it new, the term’s abused
Pre-Adamite, I vote be used.
The deluge’s traces still remain
Well kept in order by the rain
Macadam’s followers seem amazed
That by their stones they’re not erased.
Near the swamps a mansion stands
Kept for the sick by generous hands
When from his sleep a patient wakes
He sees around a land of lakes.